Cowboy Truth: Cowboy Justice Association #3 (25 page)

“No, you don’t. You can’t stand paperwork. I’ve got your number, Logan Wright.”

Ava was openly laughing at him. She certainly did know him well.

“Let’s just say I feel guilty leaving you with all this work.”

“That I believe. Get out of here and congratulate your friends. I hope everything goes well.”

Logan needed no second bidding. He grabbed his keys and leather jacket, kissed Ava goodbye, and hopped on his cycle. It would be a great time of the night for a ride. Just him and the road.

*   *   *   *

After Logan left, Ava had gone back to work on the files. It wasn’t the most glamorous of tasks but the files needed to be reviewed, and she knew Logan hated the more mundane tasks of investigation. He’d run out of the house almost without kissing her goodbye.

As she reviewed each file, each report, the picture of Bill Bryson was becoming clearer.

The picture was frightening.

Reports drew a portrait of a ruthless business man who bullied competitors and even his own family. Ava was truly shaken, her stomach in knots, as she read report after report of domestic violence between Bill and his wife Margaret. Hospital reports and photographs showed a woman beaten and cowed by a violent man who cared little for his spouse’s welfare.

Ava finally had to take a break from reading the files, sick to her stomach with disgust. It was just as well Logan hadn’t been brought up in that home. Heaven only knew how he might have turned out.

The thought made her even more queasy. Her sister had married into that family. Although Lyle looked and acted like a reasonable, gentle, even shy man, who knew what lay beneath. Certainly Bill Bryson’s secrets had been kept well by Frank Jesse.

Ava went into the kitchen and pulled a soda from the refrigerator. She needed a breather from reviewing the disturbing material but her brain was already whirling with questions. Had the three boys known of their father’s violent nature? Had he also beaten them? Was that why he’d been murdered?

She padded back into the living room and settled on the cushion, opening another file. The name of Logan’s mother jumped off the page almost stopping her heart. Perhaps this was a report regarding Jackie Wright’s disappearance?

Several photos of Logan’s home showed all of his mother’s belongings still there. Ava shuffled through the papers and found a statement from a woman – Helen Main – who claimed to be a close friend of Jackie’s and had seen her the day she disappeared. Ava wanted to scream with frustration as most of the statement had been blacked out with a thick marker. Whatever Helen had said, someone, probably Frank Jesse, didn’t want anyone to know. She’d signed the statement at the bottom and dated it.

They needed to talk to Helen Main. If she was still alive and could be found. Logan, whether he admitted it or not, desperately needed closure as to why his mother had left. Good or bad, if she could answer Logan’s questions, it would go a long way toward healing the open wound in his heart.

Ava started to organize the statements, photos, and police reports into some sort of order. When Logan finally returned home, she wanted to have this laid out clearly for him. That also meant finishing the unopened folders still in the second box. She had a mountain of work to do but it could be hours before Logan was back. She dug into the work with renewed energy. They were onto something here that was important. She could feel it in her bones. Something in these files was the key to Bill Bryson’s murder.

*   *   *   *

“What did you say to Logan?” Wade asked his Uncle George. “You must have said something.”

They were sitting in George’s living room enjoying a fine single malt scotch and discussing George’s interview. Wade wanted to know what had been said. After all, George had been the family secret keeper for years, especially about Bill Bryson.

“I told him nothing,” George blustered, his face already red from the whiskey. “I reminded him that he was a Bryson now and needed to act like it. He doesn’t understand what he’s digging into.”

But Wade understood.

Maybe not every single secret but he knew the important ones. He sure as hell didn’t blame Logan Wright for not wanting to sully his hands with the Bryson family. Logan lived an honest, upstanding life, fighting for goodness and justice.

The Brysons?

They lied, cheated, and stole to get whatever they wanted. It wasn’t a legacy that Wade cherished. He’d decided long ago to create his own.

“Logan’s a good cop,” Wade replied, watching George’s expression closely. “He’s dedicated to finding Dad’s killer.”

“He thinks someone did it because of your father’s business dealings,” George finally admitted after taking a gulp of the amber colored liquid.

“Is that what you think?” Wade asked, standing and walking over to look out of the window. The sun was down, there wasn’t much moon to speak of, and the land around the house was pitch black. Wade had counted on that.

“It’s possible,” his uncle answered meekly. George had always been a milquetoast while Bill Bryson had been the lion. Of course in the end it didn’t matter. Both had to answer for their crimes.

“Dad didn’t care what he did or who he hurt. He didn’t give a damn about right and wrong. He angered a lot of people in his life.”

Wade’s only regret was that it had taken so long for him to realize just what Bill Bryson truly was.

George stood and paced back and forth. Wade watched him in the reflection on the window. “Your father did what he thought was best for the family. Family always came first.” George sounded slightly desperate. “Your father loved you, Wade.”

Wade didn’t turn around. “That doesn’t make what he did right. Or what you’re doing now. You should have come clean, George. You should have told the truth.”

“I’m protecting this family,” George protested, his pacing ceased. “I’m the head of the family now and I’ll do everything I can to preserve it.”

Wade reached slowly under his suit jacket, his back still to his uncle, and wrapped his fingers around the cold handle of the gun, snug in the shoulder holster. Justice must be done.

“No, George. I’m the head of the family. I know what’s best.”

Chapter Nineteen

T
anner was standing in the hospital waiting room talking to Evan Davis and drinking a tall coffee. Logan slapped the two men on the back and headed straight for the soda machine. It was going to be a long night. He’d need the caffeine.

“Where’s Reed?” Logan asked. “Dear God, he’s not in there with them is he?”

Tanner laughed, coffee almost coming out of his nose. “Are you kidding? Reed probably won’t even witness the birth of his own kids, let alone Seth’s. Seth’s mom and dad are in there with him. Reed just got caught up doing a few things. He sent me a text a while ago that he was on his way.”

Logan popped open the can of soda and took a long drink. “For a man that was shot several times, you look pretty good, Evan. How are you feeling?”

Evan lifted one shoulder. “Not bad. I can predict the weather now by how badly my leg hurts.”

“Could have been worse,” Tanner said. “You had your vest and it saved your life.”

“It did but I’m not sure what for.” Evan scowled, a deep vee appearing between his brows. “All I fucking do every day is push paper from one side of my desk to the other. That isn’t what I signed on for.”

“You’ll be back on active duty before you know it,” Logan assured him.

“Maybe.” The Marshal’s mouth was turned down. Logan didn’t blame Evan one bit for being bitter. He’d had a great career with the Marshal Service and then got injured in the line of duty. If he couldn’t do the job, the government would have no qualms about giving him a medal and an administrative role, relegating him away from the action. That would be worse than death for a guy like Davis.

Seth burst through a nearby doorway. “She’s ready to push. It shouldn’t be long now.”

Wearing a green set of scrubs, the man’s face was covered with a mile-wide grin.

All three men cheered the news and Seth ducked back behind the door. Logan turned to Tanner, a grimace on his face. “I’m afraid to ask but what does it mean when he says she’s ready to push? Hasn’t she been pushing all along? What have they been doing in there all this time?”

“Women don’t push until they’re fully dilated. The contractions dilate the cervix to ten centimeters.” Logan groaned in sympathetic pain. That had to hurt. Holy fuck. “Once they’re dilated they can start pushing the baby out. Hopefully it won’t take too long.”

Evan looked a little pale himself. “How long is too long?”

Tanner chuckled at their uneasiness. “Abby pushed out both our kids in less than half an hour each. It could take much less time or more. It depends on how hard Presley pushes and how big the baby is.”

Logan looked down at his soda can. “I think I need a drink. This is barbaric. Why don’t they just put them out for this?”

Just thinking about Ava being in that kind of pain made Logan want to wrap her in cotton wool and keep her safe from anything and everything.

“Because women like to have a baby the natural way.” The three men heard Reed Mitchell’s mocking voice behind them. Standing there with a giant teddy bear, he looked like he always did. Totally calm and assured.

“What do you know about having a baby?” Logan laughed. “Did you rob a toy store on the way here?”

Reed set the bear on a chair in the waiting room. “I have sisters, asshole. And no, I didn’t rob a toy store on my way. I bought this months ago when Seth told us.”

Evan looked down at the bear and gave Reed a smirk. “Cute. Did you name him Uncle Reed?”

“His name is Teddy. Teddy Bear,” Reed replied with just a hint of a smile. “Now what did I miss?”

“She’s pushing.” Tanner answered. “It won’t be long now.”

It wasn’t long. Within a half hour, Seth emerged. Red-faced and sweaty, he was beaming with the news. A boy. Seven pounds, six ounces. Ten fingers and toes. One set of healthy lungs. Logan could hear the infant’s lusty cries from the hallway.

Seth disappeared back into the room, this time with the large bear in tow, before joining them again much later. The baby was being checked out, and Presley was being attended to by a nurse.

“I’ve got five minutes,” Seth declared. “Then I have to get back to my family.”

It had only been a year ago that Logan and Seth would go out on double dates or play poker on a Friday night. Now he had a wife and son. A family.

Tanner was planning a wedding with Madison. They might have kids as well. Certainly Tanner wasn’t going to be up for a hunting trip this fall. A guy getaway was out of the question. He’d want to spend every moment with his wife-to be.

What was happening to them?

Logan tugged at the top buttons of his shirt, suddenly feeling too warm. “I need some air,” he stated, heading straight for the exit. “I’ll be right back.”

He hit the elevator and then the front entrance before walking out into the night. Breathing deeply, he let the cool air dry the sweat that had formed on the back of his neck. He needed to get his shit together. A little warm domesticity shouldn’t shake him up like this. He’d been a groomsman in Lyle’s wedding and it hadn’t bothered him.

A flash of Ava in that ugly pink dress had a smile tugging at the corners of Logan’s mouth. Even then she’d been more beautiful than any other woman in the room. She carried herself with such grace and intelligence. She sure as fuck didn’t put up with any of his crap.

He dragged in some more air before turning back to the entrance. Enough of this self-indulgent bullshit. It was time to get back to his friends. He wasn’t afraid of a little familial bliss.

*   *   *   *

It was almost four in the morning when Logan pulled up into his driveway. He was tired, his body dragging up the steps to his home. A lone light shone through the windows. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come home to a house that wasn’t empty. Just knowing Ava was there, even asleep, made a difference.

Seth’s new baby had been incredibly tiny with a thatch of blond hair on his head and blue eyes that peered out into his new world. It was hard to believe that Logan’s friend was going to be responsible for another human life for the next eighteen years or so. Luckily he would have Presley to help him.