Heath shook his head and shoved the paper into his back pocket. “Hell if I know. I’ve been going around it in my head, and I just don’t know.”
“Denver is doing a full background on Carl, his partners, his life. If there’s any clue in that, we’ll have it by tomorrow morning,” Ryker said, his eyes blazing. “I’ve got you covered here. I promise.”
His big brother had been covering him since the first day he’d arrived at the boys home. Heath wasn’t alone, and they’d figure this out together, like they always did. God had done him a solid by giving these men to him as brothers. He slid his phone into a pocket in his jeans and reached for the shirt he’d thrown to the ground earlier. “Any ideas?”
“None you’re gonna like,” Ryker said. He moved for the door and pulled a cooler into the room.
“Considering I’m the prime suspect right now, I’d like just about anything,” Heath muttered.
Ryker’s lip curled back. “That’s exactly the kind of attention wedon’tneed.”
Heath yanked on his shirt. “Yep.”
Ryker reached into the cooler and withdrew three beer bottles. He handed two over.
Heath took a deep pull of his. “Thanks.” Then he studied his brothers, who both were staring at him intently. “Oh. We’re having our feelings chat right now?”
Denver shrugged.
“Seemed like a good time,” Ryker said, taking a slug of his beer, amusement creasing his cheek. “Zara and Anya are trying on cocktail dresses for tonight. Zara had a bunch of them delivered early this morning. I have no clue how she does that.”
Heath winced. “I guess I need a suit.”
“She ordered a bunch of suits, too—all on credit, by the way.” Ryker shook his head. “Apparently she wants to attend, so we’ll be joining you.”
Heath turned toward Denver. “You coming?”
“Hell no.” Denver tipped back his head and almost downed the entire beer.
Ryker watched him and then turned back toward Heath. “One problem at a time. So you lost your mind last night, and now the guy is dead.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Heath burst out.
“No shit,” Ryker said, gesturing toward the brown bird watching them so intently. “Maybe Anya wasn’t the only woman he was stalking.”
“Good point,” Heath said thoughtfully. “There’s another possibility.”
Denver finished his beer. “The guy slept with a student, right?”
“Yeah,” Heath said, taking another swallow of the local brew. “I guess he could’ve pissed the wrong daddy off. But this feels almost personal. Like somebody is fucking with us, you know?”
Ryker nodded. “Yeah, but who? If Madison or Cobb had found us, they wouldn’t mess around. They’d come at us head-on.”
“What about the Copper Killer?” Denver asked.
Heath thought the issue through. “Doesn’t make sense, either. The guy kills redheads and is obsessed with women. There’s no way Carl tracked him down or was any sort of a threat to him. Or them. Current thought is that there might be two killers.”
“Feels like one to me,” Ryker countered. “Somebody brilliant with fighting skills. Maybe ex-military?”
“Agreed,” Heath said. He played through the day in his head. “Do a search on FBI Special Agent Frederick Reese, too. He seems personally involved in this case.”
“His partner was killed,” Ryker said. “But that’s a good idea anyway. We need to know if there’s anything in his past we can use if necessary.” He cleared his throat. “You’re gonna have to talk to Anya about Carl. See if she has any clue who would want to kill him. Besides you, of course.”
“I know. Just wanted to work off energy before I did,” Heath said. The last thing he wanted to discuss with her was an ex-boyfriend who had cheated on her. “Shane called and wanted to know about our birth mother.” Heath finished his beer and let the bottle dangle between two of his fingers. “I don’t have much to tell him.”
Denver lifted a shoulder. “Just tell him what you remember. That’s all you have.”
Heath nodded. “Then I guess we’re good here?”
