Did his murder have anything to do with keeping that truth a secret?
The door to the study was open and evidence technicians flowed in and out doing their business. Carson stopped at the door and allowed his gaze to travel over the scene.
Drake sat slumped back in the chair behind his desk. Blood had soaked his shirtfront, splattered on the papers on his desk. Definitely hadn’t been suicide. Whoever had fired the shot had clearly done so from across the desk.
Carson pushed away the emotion of seeing the man he had admired most of life dead ... murdered. Banished the other questions. Focused on the details. Nothing in the study appeared to be disturbed. Two evidence technicians were going over the room; another was taking the necessary photographs. The ME and his assistants were preparing to take possession of the body.
“First officer on the scene said there was no sign of forced entry.”
Carson glanced at Schaffer. “Any witnesses come forward?” If they were lucky, one of the neighbors had seen or heard something.
“Nope. Officers are canvassing the neighborhood but there’s nothing yet.”
Damn.
Not exactly surprising on second thought since the homes were spaced generously apart, the smallest of the properties being approximately five acres. Most of the estates were densely wooded, the only clearings the lawns surrounding the enormous homes.
“What about security?” Though the neighborhood wasn’t gated, there was a roaming security guard on duty at all times. The guard on duty fifteen years ago had been the one to arrive on the scene first. Carson had questioned him time and again over the past five years, even after he’d gone into the assisted living facility. He hadn’t seen or heard anything prior to discovering Carson at the scene with his slaughtered family.
Schaffer pulled a pad from her jacket pocket and consulted her notes. “The security guard on duty saw no unfamiliar vehicles tonight, none at all in fact. Heard no gunshot or other out-of-place noises.”
Carson heaved a weary sigh. Just like fifteen years ago. The only thing the guard on duty at that time had eventually heard was Carson screaming. According to that guard, he’d heard the screaming as he’ddriven past the property that night; then, as he’d turned into the drive, he’d gotten a glimpse of a bloody Caucasian male running into the house. Though Carson had no recall, traumatic amnesia aggravated by intoxication, the detectives assigned to the case had assumed that he had run out to his car with the idea of going for help but then been unable to find his keys. Those keys had been found on the floor in his sister’s room. The interior of the car had been bloody where it appeared he had searched for them: the ignition, the seats, the console.
This was going to be fifteen years ago all over again.
Carson could feel it in his gut. No usable evidence. No witnesses. Nothing. Except questions.
He needed to find Elizabeth and her mother. They would need his support. He had to be there for them the same way the senator had been there for him, even if only for that short little while until he was cleared of suspicion. Had the senator known even then that his own son might be involved?
Carson cleared his mind again and walked out of the study, headed for the family room. Two police officers loitered there but no one else.
“You looking for the family, Mr. Tanner?”
Carson didn’t recognize the officer who spoke. “Yes.”
The cop jerked his head to the left. “Kitchen.”
“Thanks.” Carson headed that way.
He braced for the devastation. Though Elizabeth was far older than he had been when he’d lost his family, her grief would be profound. He couldn’t imagine what Patricia would do now. She did everything with her husband. Was always at his side.
“Carson!”
Elizabeth ran into his arms. Carson hugged her until her sobs against his shoulder subsided. Guilt that he could feel the lust he did for Annette Baxter assaulted him. He had no right to hold a woman like Elizabeth in his arms, to wish for things to be the way they used to be ... when he had given in to his lust with Annette Baxter.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured. Sorry for far more than she knew.
She peered up at him. “Who would do this?”
Determination charged through him. “I’m damned sure going to find out.”
Elizabeth hugged him again, hugged with all her might. “I know you will, Carson.”
It wasn’t until he looked up from Elizabeth to check on her mother sitting at the table that he took note of all those present in the room. Wainwright he had fully expected to see. He sat next to Patricia, one arm around her shoulders. The next face stopped him cold.
Keller Luttrell.
What the hell was he doing here? Having him step in for Carson on the Holderfield case was one thing, but this was Senator Drake. No one but Carson should be on this case.
