I caught her as she was yanking her car door open.

“Cass.” I stopped her with a hand on her arm. She turned on me, ice in her eyes. That was Cassidy, more ice than fire when she was mad. She never lost control, always kept her emotions buttoned up.

Sometimes I wondered what would happen if she ever let that leash slip.

“What?” she asked crisply.

“It’s for your own good,” I told her.

“I don’t need you looking out for me. I haven’t in a long time.”

It was my turn for pissed off. “You don’t get to tell me to stop caring.”

“I’m not your little sister,” she snapped at me.

I was crowding her against the door of the car, but I had enough room to give her the once-over. “I’m well aware.”

Her breath was coming in pants, little silvery clouds that hung in the night air between us.

“Are you?” she demanded. “I’m not your little sister and I’m not some teenage wild child who needs you to take care of her.”

“Cassidy.” I was exasperated. “What do you want from me? You want to sit in on a Bodine pow-wow so we can figure out how not to let an investigation that you’re helping with ruin our lives? Do you want to be in a position to have to answer questions from that outsider detective about your involvement with my family? You already made it clear your job and our friendship are separate entities. I’m tryin’ to respect that.”

Oh, that fire in her green eyes. It warmed me straight through, chasing the winter out of my bones.

My hand had a mind of its own, reaching out to tuck that stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes for a second as if she was melting into my touch. And then the moment was gone.

“Respect? It looks like you’re trying to make a point.”

“I’m a Bodine, Cass. We aren’t a subtle people. If I was trying to say something, I’d say it.”

She gave a humorless laugh. “That doesn’t explain the decade of mixed signals.”

I wished I didn’t know what she was talking about. No matter how hard I tried to hide them, those true feelings bled through, staining everything.

“What are you sayin’?” I asked, knowing perfectly well exactly what she was saying.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m not saying anything. Neither are you. That’s the way it’s always been. The way it will always be.”

“What the hell do you want me to do, Cassidy?” Frustration and desire were simmering beneath my words. But if she told me. If she wanted me, would I be able to keep the promise I’d made all those years ago? When I gave my word, I meant it. Take it to the bank. If I said it, it was the God’s honest truth. Except this.

Our relationship was a lie. Me pretending I felt nothing but brotherly love toward her.

I knew that if she said the words. If she asked me the question, I’d crumble. I’d put my hands on her like I’d longed to. I would kiss her until everything else in the world disappeared. All she had to do was give me a definitive sign. Tell me she wanted me. Ask me to show her how I really felt.

She gave me one more long look and shook her head. Was that disappointment I saw on her pretty face?

Disappointing her crushed me.

“I’ll see you around, Bowie,” she said in her flat, professional tone. She got in her car, feathers still ruffled, and I watched her drive away.

I wished for a lot of things in that moment. That the situation were different. That Dad hadn’t once again screwed things up for us or that he could be here to answer the questions. That I was good enough for what I wanted most in this world. I picked up a rock out of the gravel driveway and hurled it into the lake. It was too dark to see it, but I heard the splash. I knew the ripples were spreading out and out and out, ruining the glassy surface.

I turned my back on the water and went inside.

“Was that absolutely necessary?” Scarlett demanded.

“Yeah. It was,” I snapped.

“She’s family,” Scarlett argued.

“No. She’s not. In this situation, Cassidy Tucker is a cop investigating our father. We can dance around it all you want, but y’all better remember that she’s a cop first and a friend of the family second. She’s already chosen between us once.”

“Let’s table that discussion for now,” Devlin suggested, slipping into attorney mode. “Leah Mae, why don’t you explain what we’re all doing here.”

Still glaring at me, Scarlett flopped down on the chair next to Dev. I wisely chose a seat on the couch, out of punching distance.

Leah Mae stood. “Right. So, y’all are in a sticky situation and I think it’s important that we have a game plan for dealing with both the investigation and the media,” she began, addressing all of us. “Now, what are your objectives?”

“Talk plain, Leah Mae,” Jameson teased her, looking up at her like a puppy to his master.

She winked at him. “What do you all want to get out of this situation?”

“Get rid of the reporters hounding us all day and night,” Jonah said.

“Prove Dad’s innocence,” Scarlett chimed in.

“Do you really think he didn’t have anything to do with it?” Gibson asked Scarlett. It was a source of tension in their otherwise fiercely loyal relationship. Gibson hated the fact that our sister always tried to see the best in Dad.

Gibs had it the worst out of all of us. I’d at least had a tenuous connection with the man over baseball. But Gibson had been the reason why our parents never pursued their dreams of music and travel.

“Don’t start again,” Scarlett cautioned him, baring her teeth.

I tossed a pillow off the couch, breaking their stare down. “We’re on the same team,” I reminded them.

“Bowie’s right,” Devlin put in. “You don’t have to agree to have the same objectives. What’s best for all of you is to present a united front. You need each other now more than ever.”

“Fine,” Scarlett said, reluctantly giving up the fight.

Gibson grunted.

“Then let’s talk game plan,” Jameson sighed. “What do we do about the press?”

“I put together a packet of acceptable responses and suggestions on avoiding being cornered by them,” Devlin said, handed out spiral bound copies.

I felt the corner of my mouth lift. Who would have guessed that Scarlett would fall for a law nerd?

“I ran all of this by Jayme and she approved it. Especially the part where none of you get arrested for beating the hell out of a blogger or photographer,” Devlin added.

He ran through the points one by one, and we agreed to a general strategy. Basically, don’t give them anything to report.

“Remember, this only works if we don’t give them a weak link,” Leah Mae said pointedly.

I shot a look at Gibson.

“Why’s everyone starin’ at me and Gibs?” Scarlett demanded.

“Because you two are the most reactive,” I told her.

“I can control my temper,” Scarlett scoffed.

Gibson grunted again.

The rest of us cracked up. “Neither of you have any more control than a three-year-old comin’ down from a sugar high,” Jameson pointed out.

“Fuck off,” Gibson shot back.

“Point proven.”

“There’s something else I’d like to bring up if you two can put your bitchin’ aside for a minute,” I told them.

They all looked at me expectantly.

“I feel like this Detective Connelly is convinced Dad did this. I don’t know if we can trust him to do a thorough examination of the facts, especially if those facts don’t line up with his theory.”

“So what are you saying?” Gibson asked, crossing his arms. “You want us to start our own investigation?”

“Not anything officially. But we knew him, we knew Callie, and we know damn near every person in this town. Maybe there’s something the police missed. Maybe there’s something they overlooked. Maybe one of us holds the key to why that sweater came into his possession.”

“I agree,” Scarlett piped up. “I think doing some digging on our own is better than sittin’ on our asses, twiddlin’ our thumbs and trying not to smash a camera in a dumbass’s face.”

“Agreed,” Jonah said. He was quiet during family gatherings. Maybe he was still finding his place with us. Or maybe it was the fact that Gibson still treated him like an outsider.

“Where should we start?” Jameson asked.

“Let’s start with the week Callie disappeared. Try to figure out exactly what each of us were doing that week and maybe one of us will remember something important.”

“This is bullshit,” Gibson said, getting to his feet. “He did it. And you want us to speed up the process to prove it?”

“How can you be so sure?” Scarlett asked, jumping to her feet.

He glared down at her. “Because Jonah Bodine ruined everything he touched in this lifetime. The whole town knows it. Y’all might as well get on board.” Without another word, he snatched his coat off the back of the chair and stormed out.

The room fell silent for a minute. We heard Gibs’s truck rev and pull away with the churn of gravel.

“He does that on purpose so I have to rake the damn rocks out of the damn yard,” Scarlett complained.

Ignoring my brother’s typical abrupt, angry departure, I let his words echo in my head. The whole town knows it. “Speaking of the whole town,” I began.

“No,” Jameson said adamantly.

“Yes!” Scarlett insisted. “This is more than just our problem. It’s affecting the whole dang town.”

“It has to be done,” I said.

“What are we cryptically arguing about?” Jonah asked.