“Who do you think it could be?” Georgia asked.
Carson looked at her but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure how much he should say.
“What motive would Mom have?” Whit asked. “That’s always bothered me. Why would she kill Dad?”
“Who knows?” Carson said. “She tried to kill Elizabeth. Dad was so distant with her, she could have done it as a result of his neglect. Their relationship wasn’t good.”
“No, it wasn’t. Not true love, that’s for sure. But is that enough to make her kill him?”
Maybe Patsy had taken all she could and finally snapped, beginning with the murder attempt on Elizabeth. But if the kidnapper had killed Reginald for getting too close, then it seemed unlikely that Patsy could have been that person. He supposed the kidnapper could have killed Reginald and was now going after Carson and Whit, but Carson didn’t think that was what happened in the parking garage.
The way the shooter had carried out the shooting, covertly moving in and making a clean getaway, was tactical and planned. Would Jackson’s kidnapper be so professional? Possibly, but Carson didn’t think so.
“What are you thinking?” Whit asked, moving around his desk. He must see Carson’s doubt and concern. He stopped before him.
“What’s wrong?” Georgia asked.
He looked over at her, again unsure of how much he should say.
“Do you have any idea who might have shot at you?” Whit asked.
Slowly, Carson nodded.
“Who?” Georgia asked. Beside her, Ruby followed the thread of conversation by looking from one to another.
“My last mission didn’t go as planned,” Carson said.
“You were shot.”
Yes, he’d been shot, but a lot had happened before that. He glanced at Ruby and Georgia again. “It was a classified mission.”
“Were you in the military?” Ruby asked, innocent of what Carson might be implying—that someone from the failed mission had come shooting at him.
“Yes. I was part of a four-man team in MARSOC, which stands for the Marine Corps Special Operations Command. Our missions were assigned by US Special Operations Command.” He looked pointedly at Whit, who understood the brotherly code. His team had done top-secret reconnaissance missions in some of the most dangerous places in the world. In this case, he’d gone to Myanmar, an arms-embargoed country and a conduit for illicit trade. If Carson had made an enemy there, the shooting in the parking garage could only be the beginning. But it was probably best not to discuss that in front of Ruby and Georgia. He could only trust Whit right now. And for the women’s safety, he’d keep them out of it.
He looked over at Georgia, who sat wide-eyed in fascination he doubted she welcomed. She had known he was in the Marines but not that he’d done special forces. Did that put a chink in her anti-Adair armor?
Seeing Ruby notice with a tiny smile, Carson wondered if she shared Georgia’s animosity or if her disgruntlement centered only on Reginald. Interesting, that Ruby had been the one who’d been hurt by an Adair and it was Georgia who carried the torch. The two were close, but Georgia was Ruby’s champion. Ruby had a frailty about her, whereas Georgia was a rock.
“Georgia is a librarian,” Ruby said.
“Mother,” Georgia said, a warning for her to stop playing matchmaker.
A lover of books. Carson wasn’t sure if the profession fit her fiery disposition.
“How do you propose we handle this?” Whit asked.
“We wait for the detective to study the evidence. See what he comes up with from the video surveillance. Then I’ll take it from there.” If he had to involve his colonel, he would.
There was a lot to consider here, namely, the safety of his family and Ruby and Georgia.
“What was your rank in the Marines, Carson?”
The way Ruby asked made Carson wonder if she was asking for Georgia, who, although intrigued, would not give in and ask herself.
“Lieutenant.” He saw how Georgia tried to hide her awe while her stepmother asked all the questions.
“You didn’t want to leave?”
He shook his head. “I’d have retired a marine.”
“Why did you have to leave?” Ruby asked. She may have noticed his limp but hadn’t made the connection.
“I can’t be a marine with this.” He gripped his lame leg. Resentment and regret rose up as it always did when he was reminded of all he’d lost. He struggled with that reaction, one he always had when people asked him about it.
“Oh,” Ruby breathed her realization. “That’s where you were shot?”
He really didn’t feel like talking about this anymore. He saw how Georgia hadn’t missed a thing, and pushed off the wall.
“There’s a limo waiting in front of the building.” He went to the office door. There, he looked back at Whit. “We’ll see you later.”
Ruby left the office, and Georgia’s dark green eyes met his as she passed. Out in the hall, she let Ruby go ahead of them.
“What did you mean we?” she asked.
“Whit and his wife are having a barn dance tonight. They finished their new house and are having something of a house warming. Since you and Ruby are staying at the ranch, you may as well join me.”
As Georgia’s mouth parted to reject the invitation—Carson was sure that’s what she would have done since she’d rejected the invite to Whit and Elizabeth’s party that had ended up being their wedding—Ruby stopped and faced them with a cheery smile. “Oh, how delightful. We’d love to.”
Georgia didn’t look excited at all about the prospect of going to a party. Maybe it had more to do with a party that an Adair put on. It would do her some good to see for herself that his family wasn’t a bunch of mean people with money.
“Dress casually,” he said to her, loving how easy it was to rile her.
* * *
Carson found Georgia and Ruby in the living room, sitting on the big off-white leather sectional. They’d both changed into jeans, Ruby much more conservative. Georgia wore a teal-green scarf over a white boatneck T-shirt and distressed jeans that were nearly worn through in places. She had teal accessories, belt, shoes and jewelry. She was so put together. Completely different than the suited woman he’d seen at AdAir. The librarian had sparks. A librarian who hated money. Or was it only his money? He wondered if he should stifle the urge to test her on that.
“I have a little surprise,” he said. “Follow me, ladies.”
Ruby stood with an excited smile and came toward him. Georgia was much slower, woe to be her, subjected to an evening with awful Adairs.
Leading them to the front door, he opened it to a waiting horse-drawn carriage, complete with a driver.
He helped Ruby up and then offered Georgia his hand next. She didn’t take it. Amused, he sat beside her and not Ruby. Ruby looked on in approval, and Georgia scooted over to put space between them. He almost chuckled.
But business had to come first. The carriage was a tool, part of his strategy to relax Ruby enough to broach the subject of Jackson.
He waited for the carriage to start moving.
Ruby sat prim and proper, rail-thin, salon-finished nails, light brown hair dyed to hide her gray. Even her physical appearance supported his expanding theory that Georgia had taken on too much responsibility where Ruby was concerned. It was sad that Ruby had lost her