“Yes. I’ll find them.” And I meant it. Though the rotten feeling settling into my stomach told me I might not like what I found. “Stay put, Lyle. I’ll call you soon.”
I hung up.
The creek burbled over the stones, and somewhere upstream a bird called once and went quiet.
I looked at Kayden. “Do you know a house Frank would use in Winton?”
“No.” He scanned the bank, looking for the fastest way up.
I took one last look at the boot sitting on that rock in the sun. Evidence. Sitting out here for weeks while Bob had done nothing. I made myself leave them and ran to Kayden’s side.
We hit the incline hard. When it got too steep, Kayden reached back and grabbed my hand, hauling me up without breaking stride. At the top, we ran for the chopper.
“Told you Bob was crooked,” Kayden said.
“I hope you’re wrong.”
“You know I’m not.”
I had a terrible feeling he was right, and that scared me almost as much as what might be waiting for us in Winton. Because Bob being crooked was one problem, but Bob sending the Henderson brothers to bring in Frank Branson was something else entirely.
Frank wasn’t a man who would come in easily.
We pulled up at the chopper, both breathing hard.
“Kayden.” I turned to face him. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I think we both want the same thing.”
“Yeah?” He pulled the door open. “What’s that?”
“The truth.”
He looked at me for a long moment. Whatever fight had been left in him down on that creek bank was gone. Something had shifted. Not trust exactly, but perhaps the beginning of it.
He gave me one short nod. “Get in.”
We climbed into the chopper, and as he pressed buttons and flicked switches, I said, “Glad we’re on the same page. So, while you’re flying me to Winton, you’re going to tell me everything you’ve been holding back.”
He nodded, then lifted the chopper off the ground.
It wasn’t much. But from Kayden Branson, it felt like it was everything.
Chapter 8
Kayden
* * *
I lifted the chopper off the creek bank and headed east.
Sapphire put her headset on, yet she didn’t say anything as we climbed. She pulled out her notebook and scribbled hard, like she was trying to get everything down before it faded. Whatever had been between us on that creek bank, chest to chest, she’d cracked open the old wound. Now, she was a cop on a job, flying to Winton, and somewhere at the other end of this, Bruce and Wayne were alive or dead, and my father could be the reason.
A lot had changed in three minutes.
I pushed the speed up and pulled my headset on. “What do you want to know?”
She turned toward me. “Everything you’ve been holding back.”
“Everything’s a big ask.”
