“Not surprised you’re running into some pressure from the Colfaxes,” Rafe said. “It’s no secret that they all want those shares back. They say Warner Colfax almost had a stroke when he discovered that someone outside the family had inherited a controlling interest and had the right to sell or give the shares to whoever she wished.”
“I’m sure Colfax will pay well for them,” Teresa said. “You’ll come out of this a wealthy woman, Lucy.”
“The trouble is, everyone in the family wants to buy those shares from Lucy,” Mason explained. “Money, evidently, is no object.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, Warner is definitely the richest one in the clan,” Rafe observed. “So he can probably afford to give you the best price.”
“Yes, I know,” Lucy said. She ate a bite of the thinly sliced, delicately sautéed Brussels-sprouts-and-shallots dish that had accompanied her pasta. “Speaking of the past, do either of you remember much about what happened around the time that Tristan Brinker disappeared?”
Teresa and Rafe looked at each other, and then Rafe shrugged.
“You’ll have to ask Teresa,” he said. “I didn’t live here thirteen years ago.”
“I certainly remember the reaction when we got the news that Brinker had gone missing,” Teresa said. “Every teen in town was talking about it.” She glanced at Mason. “You were still here at the time. You must recall the commotion.”
“I remember,” Mason said. “But I was a little busy at the time.”
Teresa smiled. “I know. You were working in the hardware store and fixing up that old house and generally holding things together for yourself and your brother while your uncle was away.”
“I heard some of the talk at the store, but I wasn’t in high school, so I didn’t get the younger teen version of events,” Mason said.
“It was all typical over-the-top teen conspiracy-theory stuff, for the most part,” Teresa said. “There were two variations, as I recall. The most popular version held that since Tristan obviously had connections in the illicit drug market he had probably been the victim of a drug deal gone bad. That turned out to be the police theory as well. The second scenario, of course, was that you had something to do with his disappearance, Mason.”
Mason shook his head. “Nope. Wasn’t me.”
“Well, we know that now,” Teresa said. “But at the time there was a rumor going around that you and Brinker had quarreled the night of the last party out at the old Harper Ranch.”
“We had words,” Mason said. “But that was the end of it.”
Rafe gave him a speculative look. “That was the end of it, thanks to Sara Sheridan.”
Mason did not respond.
“I can tell you that no one ever suspected her,” Teresa said. “I do remember that when it became clear that Brinker really had disappeared and people started saying he was probably dead, some of the kids seemed relieved. I think Jillian Benson—Jillian Colfax now—was one of them, by the way. Nolan Kelly, too. Or at least that was my take on the situation.”
Lucy paused her fork in the air. “I got the impression that both Jillian and Nolan liked Brinker. Or maybe I should say they liked being in the circle that hung around him.”
“All I can tell you is that when the authorities announced that Brinker was missing and presumed dead, Jillian didn’t exactly go into mourning,” Teresa said. “But I’m not positive about her reaction. It was just an impression I got. Same with Nolan and some of the other kids. But I was a couple of years younger, as you know, so I wasn’t moving in their circles.”
“Brinker was a real piece of work,” Lucy said. “If it turns out that he was the Scorecard Rapist, he was a lot more dangerous than anyone could have known at the time. He sure had the teens of Summer River under his spell that summer, didn’t he?”
“Yes.” Teresa shuddered. “Now that I’ve got kids of my own, I think about him from time to time. And I worry.”
Rafe’s expression turned grim. “I wasn’t here in those days, but I’ve seen enough in my teaching career to know just how bad things can get in the world of teenagers when you’ve got a slightly older, charismatic sociopath in the mix.”
Teresa picked up her wineglass. “And to think Brinker’s father was so proud of his son.”
23
Nolan Kelly searched the desk one last time, aiming the penlight into each drawer. There was nothing except neatly stacked papers, old bills, gardening catalogs and the kind of junk that piles up over the years—boxes of paper clips, pens, rubber bands.
He abandoned the desk and turned to survey the room that Sara Sheridan had used as an office. This was his second attempt to locate the old video. Last night had proven fruitless, but he was determined to give it one more try.
Thirteen years ago he had searched for it obsessively. He had gone through the house that Brinker had rented for the summer from top to bottom, but he had found nothing. There had been nothing online, either. In the end, he had told himself that Brinker had never uploaded the damning evidence—probably because he had known there was a possibility that the trail could lead back to him. Brinker had always looked out for number one, always made sure to cover his tracks, Nolan thought.
He figured that Sara must have discovered Brinker’s stash of videos. It was the only way she could have known that Brinker was the Scorecard Rapist. And if she had known that much, Nolan thought, she would have known about the drug connection. If the video he was looking for was somewhere in the house, there was a high probability that Lucy would discover it when she packed up her aunt’s things.
He checked his watch. He had some time. There was no need to panic—not yet. He had watched Lucy and Mason enter the restaurant with Teresa and Rafe Vega. The meal would be a leisurely affair.
What he could not predict was whether Lucy and Mason would return to the old house after dinner. He had to assume that it was a strong possibility. There were not a lot of convenient beds available to a couple seeking privacy in Summer River. He was sure that if Lucy and Mason were not already sleeping together, they soon would be. He had recognized the dangerous look in Mason’s eyes when he had walked into the kitchen that morning. Mason had not liked finding Lucy alone with another man.
If you only knew the truth, Fletcher.
Nolan swung the penlight around the room, taking one last look. He had no personal interest in Lucy. Hell, back at the start, all he had cared about was getting an exclusive listing so that he could sell the property to his Silicon Valley client. But when Brinker’s body turned up in the fireplace, he had been shaken to the core. Disaster loomed. It was just like the bastard to come back to haunt him. Some part of him had been waiting all these years for the other shoe to drop, and now it had.