“Online, of course. It looks like they hold seasonal pheasant shoots between October and February here. There’s other hunting at different times of the year. With the river and the lake so close, it might be a good place for duck hunting too. Looks like it’d be a great place for a nature trail when it’s not hunting season.”
“I’m not sure what your point is,” Darius said, impressed in spite of himself.
“Just that this seems like property with undeveloped potential. This area has a mild climate, and you’re only an hour from an airport with access to recreational options. Even if someone didn’t want to continue running it as a ranch, it’s not like it doesn’t still have value.”
“I’ve been a teacher, and now I’m a game designer. I’ve always left the business stuff up to Rafe. It seems like none of this is our business since Eve’s part of the family that was disinherited?” Darius rubbed his face, more fatigued than he’d realized.
“Maybe bodyguards have too much time on their hands.” Joe put his phone back in his pocket. “I spend a lot of my time watching people and trying to assess any threat and understand what’s going on. After more than forty years, why do you think Eve’s grandfather would suddenly ask her father to come home—and be willing to acceptherin his place?”
“Leverage. There’s nothing like holding someone’s inheritance as blackmail to get acquiescence. Demand the disinherited to attend the grandfather but then make sure she receives neutral reception so she doesn’t get any ideas.” Darius stepped to the solarium door and peeked into the empty hallway. “I’m tempted to suggest that we drive back when she’s done talking to her grandfather.”
“Depending on how the meeting goes, she might be willing,” Joe said. “I’d like to check out the grounds.”
“I’ll come,” Darius said. “It beats hanging around here waiting for her.”
13
When Eve stepped out of the solarium, Mrs. Campbell was waiting.
“This way, miss.”
They took the stairs and went the opposite direction of Eve’s room.
“Up there, miss.” The housekeeper pointed to a half-flight of stairs.
“If he hasn’t been well, wouldn’t it be better to move his bedroom down to the main floor, so he can get around more easily?” Eve asked.
“They put in one of those home elevator shafts a few months ago.” The housekeeper turned and walked away.
Eve had wondered whether or not she’d be announced. She almost wished now that she had been. To keep herself from being too intimidated, she took a picture of the door and sent it to her father with a text.
Braving the lion’s den. Wish me luck.
Resigned, she climbed the stairs and gave the door a light tap. It was ripped open immediately, and she found herself facing a man about her age with flaming red hair. He glared at her with bloodshot eyes, his pupils extended. His high cheekbones made the gauntness of his face more pronounced, and he smelled like he could use a shower. He definitely needed a shampoo. His scabbed face showed the telltale signs of long-time drug abuse.
“It’s mine,” he hissed with an English-softened Scottish accent, practically nose-to-nose with Eve, making her wince at his bad breath, “and I won’t let you steal it from me.”
He brushed past her, his shoulder hitting hers, but she’d stiffened at his comment, so the dissipated young man bounced off her instead. His other shoulder hit the doorjamb, and he cursed. She shifted to watch him depart. That must be her cousin Graham.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Come in, girl, and shut the door,” came a querulous voice from inside the dim room.
Eve turned to face the room, irritated now. It definitely seemed she was meant to be a pawn in some kind of game between her grandfather and her cousin. And she was having none of it.
“We need to establish a couple of things first,” she said, stepping into the room. “My name is Eve, and I haven’t been a girl in years.”
She hadn’t expected the old man sitting up in the huge bed to look so much like her father. It gave her pause and kept her from saying anything more. This could be what her father looked like in twenty years, with shock-white hair and eyes that glittered with interest. But this man’s face only had frown lines while her dad’s had a balance between those and smile lines.
“Turn up the light, Alan.” Her grandfather spoke like her cousin had, his Scottish accent much less pronounced. Her dad had mentioned that his father had attended Oxford like many wealthy Scots, and that had softened his brogue.
Eve had been so focused on her grandfather that she hadn’t noticed the other man, probably in his mid-sixties, standing in the shadows by the bed. He turned on another lamp, but it didn’t brighten the room much.
“It’s still light outside and a beautiful day,” Eve said, “why not open the curtains?”
“My doctor—” her grandfather began.
“Yes, migraine photophobia.” She moved closer to the bed, her nurse’s training kicking in.
“Photo what?”
