Funny thing, he realized, beyond the warm fuzziness of the alcohol finally taking hold, none of his accomplishments mattered anymore.
His son was dead.
Granville had just returned from City Hall, where he’d learned what Troy Baker had to say. Keith and Troy had met to discuss Austin. Keith had broken down and admitted to his buddy that he’d been with another woman that night. Granville had known. Ray Hale had protected Keith for more than ten years. Now both Ray and Keith were dead.
If anything Troy said could be taken for truth, Granville’s boy had fallen completely apart at that damned quarry. Troy swore he’d left Keith very much alive.
Surely Keith hadn’t taken his own life. Granville couldn’t bear to believe that theory. The autopsy might not be able to confirm anything one way or the other unless there had been a struggle before Keith fell. And even that might not tell the tale, since Keith and Troy had fought, which might also explain the extraneous tissue found under his son’s fingernails. Granville had to face the fact that he might never know exactly what happened. He would have done anything for his son; why hadn’t he come to him?
Then there was the other question that seared like acid in his gut. Three people, besides Granville, had known what really happened that night, and two of them were dead. Maybe Granville simply wanted to believe there was something wrong with that equation. It beat the hell out of the idea that his son had killed himself.
But the part that drove the idea home for Granville was the manner of Ray’s death. The man had been burned to death inside his truck. The pickup was too old to have the fire-retardant materials of newer models or any other safety features that might have helped him survive. They couldn’t say for sure just yet, but there appeared to have been head trauma prior to his having been doused in gasoline and lit with a match.
To Granville’s knowledge Ray had no enemies who would want to hurt him in such a heinous way. The manner of death, as Caruthers pointed out, indicated a strong emotional motive. There was only one incident in Ray’s career that might spawn that kind of emotion.
It would be very easy to blame Granville’s son’s as well as Ray’s murder on Clint Austin and be done with it. If Austin had discovered the truth, he would have strong motivation, he actually had enough even without that knowledge. But he also had an alibi for both murders, leaving Granville with quite a quandary on his hands and with only one other possible candidate.
Granville had suspected his son had the occasional affair. Like the time Violet had come to him fearful that her husband was cheating after finding a gift she was certain hadn’t been purchased for her. After all, Violet was not one to wear such wicked lingerie. Then there was the time before the children were born when Violet had been out of town with her folks and Keith had staggered in well after midnight, drunk and with another woman’s red lipstick on his unshaven jaw. Granville had been surprised to find his son, drunk as a skunk, at his door that night. Keith had locked himself out of his own house and it had been too cold to sleep in his car, so he’d come dragging home.
Granville certainly hadn’t minded the smell of whiskey on his son’s breath. A man had a right to pull one now and then. It helped relieve stress, took him to the bottom so he could rise up and be whole again.
The problem was, Granville had smelled more than alcohol that night; he’d smelledherperfume.
At first he’d played it off, assuming she wasn’t the only one who wore that particular perfume. But that combined with that blood red shade of lipstick had nagged at him. Eventually he’d asked her and she had laughed, saying she’d helped Keith get home that night. Granville had believed her, had even thanked her for looking out for his son.
Had she been toying with Keith all this time? A more active than usual sex life was something Granville enjoyed, as had his son. Hell, there wasn’t a healthy man alive who didn’t need a little more than he could get at home in most instances. Unencumbered sex could be a good thing. Everyone got something they wanted. God knew he’d spent a fortune buying gifts for that woman. But could she have used that old secret to drive Keith to that edge? Granville knew her ... knew herpower. If he discovered that she had used that night to manipulate his son, she would pay.
Granville refilled his glass and brought it to his lips.
He couldn’t prove any of this. All he had was his instincts. Pure speculation mostly. But there was one thing he knew after years of clawing his way to the top and then fighting ruthlessly to stay there: give a person enough rope and they would hang themselves.
“Gran, baby, where in the world have you been?” She came up behind him, pressed close to his back as she hugged her arms around his middle. “I was so worried. I missed you.”
He downed the brandy in his glass and set it aside. “I needed to drive around, clear my head, after leaving City Hall.”
“I’m glad you’re home.”
She loosened her arms so that he could turn around to face her. “Caruthers has Troy Baker in custody. Seems he was with Keith right before he died. He thinks Keith may have jumped because of something that was bothering him. Wonder what that could have been?”
Uncertainty flashed ever so briefly in her eyes.
“I tell you,” Granville went on sagely, leaving the last comment for her to stew over, “the longer Austin hangs around this town the worse things get. My son is dead because of him. He was fine until Austin showed up. His presence pushed him over that edge. I’m certain of it.”
“You’re right, Gran. We’ve got to do something. Ray apparently couldn’t handle the situation. Caruthers likely won’t do any better.” She peered at Granville pleadingly. “Someone has to do something. Austin’s ruining this town.Your town.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” he said wearily. “My son is dead. What difference does the rest make?”
She crooked her arm around his. “Let me tuck you into bed, Gran. This day has been too long.”
“Did you know that Austin and that Wallace girl broke into the courthouse and pilfered through the files stored there?” he said, fertilizing those seeds of worry he’d just planted. “The man is obsessedwith proving his innocence. And now he’s got that crazy Wallace girl on his side.”
“Let’s get you to bed,” Justine urged as if the idea of what Austin and Emily had done was of no concern to her.
Granville allowed her to lead him up to his bedroom. She undressed him slowly, lathing every inch of flesh she bared with kisses and caresses. She brought him to the very edge of his sanity with nothing more than those skilled hands and that carnal mouth. He let her. He was only human after all.
Slim, lithe, beautiful, with her lovely full breasts and long, shapely legs. She would try anything to pleasure him. Whatever he wanted she gave him. Like now. She swallowed him fully, drew hard on his rigid flesh, once, twice, then worked up and down with those lush red lips until he exploded so forcefully he bucked off the mattress.
She crawled naked into bed next to him. His eyes closed, but he would not sleep. He would lie here and wait for her reaction. If she went to sleep, as a part of him fully expected, all would be well—as well as could be with his son lying dead on a slab.
