Paige squeezed his hand tightly. He leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“You don’t have to. I can tell them, and you can listen or excuse yourself. No one is going to make you do anything you’ve not comfortable with.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered back, and his chest swelled with pride.
His Paige was strong. As much as he wanted to protect her, she didn’t need him for that. She needed his support, and he’d give her that for as long as she wanted it.
She launched into the story, and no one interrupted her. Ben suspected if they did, she wouldn’t be able to get through it without losing her composure. When she finished, she leaned against him, and he squeezed her hand again.
Alex moved his hands to speak in American Sign Language. His employees were well versed in ASL, a requirement of their employ, but the only one in his family who understood him was Jackson. After having his larynx damaged, Alex was unable to speak above a whisper, and his voice weakened the more he used it. ASL was his way to communicate, and his employees translated for clients who didn’t know how to sign.
“Thank you,” Paige said quietly, and Ben turned to her, surprised.
“You understand sign language?”
She shrugged. “A little. He thanked me for sharing my story, and he apologized for what I’d been through. You didn’t tell me he was deaf or hard of hearing.”
“I’m not,” Alex signed. “My voice box is damaged, so I don’t talk very much. I hear fine, and I can read lips.”
At her confused expression, Drake interpreted, and she thanked him with a smile.
“Like I said, I only know a little sign language. Not enough to carry on a conversation, but I’ll do my best to follow,” she said sheepishly.
Alex’s hands moved. “No need. Drake will interpret.”
Drake was already speaking each word his boss signed and picked up the narrative at Alex’s urging. “And now he wants me to talk about the Warner murder. After Jackson called, I gathered all the facts available on the case. Most of it came from the police file, but there was some other intel that came from more thorough research. Marty Warner was shot as you said. He received rounds from a nine-millimeter semiautomatic pistol. Two in the chest and one at his temple. The second shot was the kill shot, tearing through his lung and ricocheting straight to his heart.”
Paige’s pallor paled even more, and Ben let go of her hand to place his arm around her. There wasn’t much he could do to comfort her, but she smiled at him as if she appreciated his gesture.
“So the shot to the temple was overkill?” English asked.
Drake shrugged. “Either that or the killer wanted to make sure he was dead. Warner’s family was also shot. His wife, Delores, took one to the head, execution style. His son, JJ, wasshot in the back. His death wasn’t instantaneous, according to the medical examiner’s report, but he was dead by the time authorities arrived on the scene. His daughter, Francesca, was shot in the chest and bled out before paramedics got there.”
Drake paused to take a breath and then continued. “The brass had been policed, and the only clear prints at the scene belonged to family, staff, and Paige. Her camera equipment and cell phone were found at the scene. There were no signs of a struggle and no evidence of theft. Warner was killed first followed by his wife and daughter and then his son. Investigators interviewed the staff and neighbors, but no one could shed any light on the murder. No one saw anything or heard anything. The security cameras were disabled.”
“Why shoot the family but not the staff?” Jackson asked.
Drake checked the notes he kept on his secure phone. “According to the report, no staff were working that day. The family was home alone.”
Paige sat up straighter. “That’s not true. Well, not exactly. There was a maid working in the house, but when I was taking Ms. Warner’s portrait, the maid came in to say she needed to go to the grocery store and wanted to know if Ms. Warner needed anything. She was probably still gone when it happened, but she was working. And there were a couple of guys at the stables. One of them took my horse from me when I got back from my ride. The other was cleaning out the stalls.”
Drake glanced over his shoulder at Ridge, who was leaning against the wall, quietly listening. “Think you can run down that lead? Find out why there’s a discrepancy with the report?”
Ridge nodded and stepped from the room. Ben wasn’t sure where he went, but he didn’t care. Alex’s operatives were good at what they did. Though private security was their bread and butter, running an investigation was second nature to them. They had come through on several cases when the Legends needed their help, and they were considered part of the family.
“After reading the report and talking to one of the investigators, I thought they were thorough in their investigation. Now I’m wondering what more they missed,” Drake said.
“Do they have a theory?” Reagan asked.
“They have several, but nothing that fits. They ruled out burglary and robbery. They checked into known associates, but anyone who stood out as a possible suspect had an alibi. Now we know why, since Paige saw Darius Boyd shoot him. He wasn’t mentioned in the file as a suspect, but once we had a name to go on, we checked some more,” Drake said.
“Warner contributed to Cassius Boyd’s election campaign. Delores Warner hosted a fundraiser for Cassius at the country club,” PJ explained. “There’s your connection, but it’s not exactly a motive for murder.”
“Is Cassius involved? Maybe he had a beef with Warner and talked his dad into taking him out,” Easton said.
“Anything’s possible,” Alex signed.
“I checked into Warner,” Luke said. “His company was profitable, and his financials didn’t show anything suspicious. He came by his wealth honestly, but his wife had her own fortune too. They signed a prenuptial agreement when they married that protected both their assets. They had college fundsset up for their children, and upon graduation with a degree, the kids each receive trust funds in addition to their college funds.”
