“That’s right.”

“My family claims Clint never laid a hand on her, then I hear them say he never laid a hand on her that she didn’t deserve.” Bo’s jaw tightened. “I’m a married man, and I have two daughters. I wouldn’t take kindly to anyone who laid a violent hand on them. I’m not my brothers. I’m not my parents.”

“I’m not my parents either.”

Bo nodded. “I heard some about that. My family’s saying you and Clint’s widow were having an affair.”

“I met Traci twice since I got back to Lakeview. Once when Clint brought her with him to my office hoping to file a frivolous and, frankly, vindictive suit against his neighbors.”

“The McConnells?”

“That’s right. He wasn’t pleased when I refused to take his case. I met her again when I went to their place because I saw the signs of abuse. She wouldn’t talk to me, but I left my card. I’m involved with someone, seriously involved. Traci’s my client, nothing more.”

“The woman you’re involved with—Darby McCray—she’d be the one who was here that night?”

“That’s right.”

“Clint defaced her property as well as your office. And the windows upstairs—doors,” he corrected, “the ones that are boarded up. He shot them out.”

“Evidence would indicate he did all of that. I don’t know who killed your brother, Sergeant Major, whether it was friend or foe, a deliberate act or an accidental one. I do know it happened on my land, right over there, while the woman I love woke to have bullets from Clint’s rifle hitting the wall three feet above her head.”

“He was the runt of the litter, my pappy used to say. And he’d give the kid a smack just for the hell of it. That’s not excusing what he did—and I believe he did all you’re saying. But he was raised up mean.”

“You were raised in the same house.”

“I got out,” Bo said simply. “The marines didn’t just make me, Zane, they saved me. You were raised hard, and it seems to me you made different choices than my three brothers.”

“My family saved me. My sister, my aunt, the man she married, my grandparents.”

“I remember your grandparents,” Bo continued. “They’re good people. I can’t say my family’s good people, but I’m going to stand with them while we bury my baby brother. And I’m going to stand here now, look you in the eye, and apologize for what my brother did.”

“Not necessary.”

“It is for me. Maybe if I’d stayed longer I could’ve helped him see a different way of being. But I saved myself, and I can’t regret it. I’ve got one brother in prison, another who’s so like the old man you can barely tell them apart. Now I’ve got one going in the ground before he hits thirty.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to say it because I didn’t feel it. But I can say it now. I’m sorry, Bo.”

“I thank you for that. I’d like to pay for the damage my brother did to your home, your office, Ms. McCray’s property.”

“Absolutely not.”

“If you won’t take that, I want to ask you to let me pay for any of Traci’s legal expenses.”

“They’re pro bono.”

Bo sighed, squeezed the bridge of his nose. “You don’t owe me or my family a single damn thing, but I’m asking all the same. There has to be some restitution. I want justice for Clint, I want to believe whoever killed him will be caught, tried, and punished. But there has to be restitution for what Clint did for me to settle myself on it all.”

“If you give me your contact information, and a few days, I’ll give you the name of a women’s shelter. You could make a donation.”

Bo closed his eyes briefly, nodded. “I can promise to do that.” He took out his wallet and drew a card from it. “You can contact me when it’s convenient. I’m going to do my duty to my family, then I’m leaving, going back to my wife, my daughters, my life. I won’t be back again.”

He held out a hand, and they shook.

“I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”

“I’m going to say the same, and thank you for your service, Sergeant Major Draper.”

Bo started back to his car, paused, looked back. “You couldn’t have been more’n thirteen, fourteen when I lit out.”

“That’d be about right.”

“You sure could play baseball.”

Zane watched him head down the road, then sat, picked up the ball again.

Maybe the marines had made Bo Draper, and saved him. But to Zane’s mind, they couldn’t have done either if he hadn’t chosen to let them.

“Not just what you’re born into, who raises you,” he said aloud as he rubbed the ball. “It’s what you do about it.”

He set the ball down, picked up the laptop again, and got back to doing what he could do to protect what mattered to him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Emily pulled up in front of the bungalow with her youngest in tow just after nine a.m. Together she and Brody hauled out the fresh sheets and towels, the soaps, shampoo, lotions, and the bags of groceries the guest had ordered.

Far from a morning person, Brody grumbled and scowled as they carted the supplies. “When I take over the business, I won’t be cleaning cabins.”

Emily just let out a snorting laugh. “Yeah? Let me know how that works out for you, pal.”

Since she heard the television through the open windows, noted the Privacy sign absent from the front door, she shifted her load, knocked.

She had a smile ready when the door opened. “Good morning, Mr. Bingley. Is this a good time for housekeeping?”

He beamed a smile back. “It’s always a good time if I’m not doing it. I was expecting Janey.”

“Janey’s mama tripped, broke her ankle this morning, so we’re covering for her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. How’s it going, big guy?”

Brody barely resisted the sneer, dragged out his polite voice. “Just fine, sir.” He walked the groceries straight back to the kitchen. “Do you want to check, sir, make sure your order’s correct?”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Brody, you go on and put the groceries away, make sure to pin the receipt to the board there.”

The polite tone dropped away like a stone in a well. “I know, Mom.” Like he hadn’t done it a zillion times before.

“Good, then you can start loading up the trash. I’ll start in the bedroom, Mr. Bingley, if I won’t be in your way.”

“The handy thing about writing? You can do it anywhere. I’ll just take my laptop out on the porch, and get out of your way. I’ll see if the view inspires me to get my quota done this morning.”

She wasn’t bad-looking for an old broad, he thought as he unplugged his laptop from the charger. Definitely had a fine ass, but the tits probably sagged seeing as she had two kids.

Plus, she was married to the local cop, so best to keep hands off that one.

Her brat didn’t look happy with his assignment. Couldn’t blame him. Groceries, housekeeping—women’s work.