“Why?” he snarled. “So you could keep making excuses for your murdering father?”
“Mr. Wright, someone sent a letter to Miss Cantrell’s father threatening to harm her,” Grant spoke up. “And today, after speaking with you at the hospital, they tried to run her over. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“Go to hell.” To Brynnon, he added, “And take your father with you.”
The bitter man tried to shut the door, but a quick move of Brynnon’s hand kept it from closing. “Mr. Wright, please. Someone’s been following me. They left pictures of me in my mailbox, along with this.” She pulled the baggie with the note out of her coat pocket to show him.
Wright shook his head. “Well, it certainly wasn’t me.”
“You got an alibi that can back that up?” Derek asked.
The man lifted his chin. “As a matter of fact, I do. The nursing staff at Dallas Regional’s cancer treatment center. So, if you came here hoping to pin that on me so you could shut me up, you’re going to be very disappointed.”
Brynnon sucked in a breath. “You have cancer? I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t need your pity. What I need is for my son to get justice.”
“We want that, too,” Brynnon assured him. “Please, Mr. Wright.” She glanced up at Grant and then back to Charles. “Can we come inside and talk about this? I promise we won’t stay long.” She smiled. “Plus, it’s freezing out here. I can’t imagine it would be good if you were to get sick.”
The man shook his head. “Now, you’re starting to sound like those damn doctors.” Eyeing the three of them suspiciously, he said, “I don’t know what your game is, but I have a gun, and I still know how to use it.”
Grant and Derek both stiffened beside her.Ah, hell.Sensing the former SEALs’ impending outbursts, Brynnon put a hand to Grant’s arm and intervened.
“I can assure you, Mr. Wright. We’re just here to talk.”
The man hesitated a few more seconds before stepping aside and letting them into his home. The place was small and not very well kept. There was laundry strewn about, and it hadn’t appeared to have been dusted for quite some time.
“You’ll have to excuse the mess. It’s the cleaning lady’s day off.”
“We don’t care about the state of your house, Mr. Wright,” Grant spoke sternly. “We want to know why you blame Cantrell Construction for the death of your son.”
“Like I told her”—he looked Brynnon’s way—“the materials they used weren’t up to snuff.”
Picking up a framed photo, Brynnon asked, “Is this him?” It was amongst several scattered about a tall bookshelf. “Is this Jordan?”
In the one she’d chosen, a handsome groom and his bride were smiling for the camera. The same woman was in several other pictures, only without her husband. In some, she was holding a small baby. Others, the child was older.
“Yes.” The female voice took them all by surprise. “That’s my brother and Stacey. His widow.”
Brynnon and her two guards turned to see a woman about her age standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. She was petite with short, blonde hair. The woman was attractive...and the spitting image of Charles Wright.
“This is Jessica Price. My daughter.”
“Daughter?” Derek looked confused. “None of the reports I ran mentioned anything about you having a daughter.”
“That’s probably because Dad didn’t know I existed until a few years ago.”
“She’s right,” Charles spoke up. “Back in the day, Jessica’s mother and I...well, we had a moment of indiscretion. It was a one-time thing, and we lost touch afterward.”
“I take it your wife knew nothing about the affair?” Grant asked.
Wright lifted his chin. “It’s not something I’m proud of, but Jordan’s mom and I were going through a rough patch. I needed someone to talk to, and Camille, Jessica’s mom, was there. She and I worked together. We went out one night after work and...”
“They made me.” Jessica smiled, but her expression was odd. Almost nervous.
Charles looked ashamed. “After, I told Camille it was a mistake. That I loved my wife, and it could never happen again.”
Brynnon frowned. “And Camille never told you she was pregnant?”
