Jayme swirled into the Brunch Club in head-to-toe city black. Her spiky heels weren’t snow storm appropriate. But they worked just fine for ass-kicking. Silence descended over our table in the private room. I glanced around at my family.

Scarlett leaned into her boyfriend Devlin’s side. Devlin, fancy lawyer that he was, had gone and gotten us Jayme when Scarlett found Callie Kendall’s sweater in our dad’s house last spring. Jameson and Leah Mae had their heads together, sharing the same menu like stupid in love new couples tended to do.

Jonah, our half-brother and the newest official addition to our family, kicked back in his chair and waited for Jayme to drop whatever bomb she had stored in her big-ass pocket book. Gibson stared moodily into his coffee.

The server, a tall, pale senior from my high school, approached. He didn’t make eye contact with me, which was fine with me. The whole town probably already knew we were meeting with our lawyer.

“Coffee me,” Jayme ordered succinctly. She ran a practice in Charleston and also paid us enough visits in Bootleg Springs to keep our asses out of trouble. I wondered if she was charging us double time for bringing her in on a Saturday. “Keep it coming.” She sent him scurrying off.

“You’re acting like I’m one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse,” Jayme complained. “This isn’t terrible news.”

“It’s Callie’s blood,” Gibson snapped.

“Callie’s. Not your father’s. And not yours or yours or yours,” she said, pointing around the table at each of the male members of the Bodine clan. “You think the investigators aren’t considering all possibilities? You all lived in Bootleg. You all had access to that house and the victim.”

She let that sink in as the kid returned with a huge mug of steaming coffee. The rest of us shared a long look.

“Thanks,” Jayme said, sticking her face in the mug.

We ordered somberly, and when the server left, Scarlett leaned in. “You’re saying my brothers are suspects?”

“I’m saying they would have been. You too, Scarlett, if anyone thought you could murder someone in cold blood and keep quiet about it for years.” Everyone but Gibson cracked a smile at that. If Scarlett killed someone, it would be in a fit of rage in front of the whole damn town, not in cold calculation.

“Yes. It’s Callie’s blood on the sweater. But there wasn’t a speck of Bodine DNA found. Your dad could have found that sweater in the woods. Hell, the real killer could be a neighbor trying to frame Jonah Sr.”

“That’s unlikely,” I said dryly. It would have been real nice if our father hadn’t up and died so he could answer the questions we all had about just how he came to be in possession of the bloody sweater Callie Kendall went missing in all those years ago. And those pesky other questions about where the hell he’d disappeared to immediately after cops and reporters had turned Bootleg Springs upside down in a frantic search for the missing teenager.

“Unlikely, but if it comes down to it, if the investigators get a hard-on for one of you, I can argue that.”

“Reasonable doubt,” Devlin said.

“Exactly.”

“So what do we do now? The news is gonna break and soon, I’m sure,” I spoke up. “Maybe the cops aren’t looking at us right now, but that doesn’t mean the entire state won’t be pointing fingers in our direction.”

“You’re going to keep your mouths shut. You’re not going to get into a single bar fight. You aren’t going to say so much as ‘Hey, y’all,’ to a reporter or I’ll drive up here and parade you out in front of the courthouse and make you give a press conference.”

Jameson visibly shuddered. None of us wanted to stand up with a dozen microphones in our faces and explain how we didn’t think our dad had anything to do with the death or disappearance of Callie Kendall.

Especially since I wasn’t sure which side I fell on. Was my father a killer? I didn’t think it was likely that the man I’d known my entire life had committed some gruesome murder. But could he have hit her driving drunk? Hadn’t he taken out an entire hedgerow at the house after a bender? I looked up and met Gibs’s eyes. He was thinking along the same lines.

I didn’t know. Maybe I’d never know. Maybe Callie’s disappearance would never be solved and my father’s memory would always be in question. Did anyone ever really know their parents?

“Judging by the crickets around the table, none of you want me to make good on that threat. So let’s all do our best not to ruin the advantage we were just handed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” we all recited together like a kindergarten class.

With bellies full of egg white omelets, Jonah and I climbed back in his car.

“That woman is intense,” he commented.

“She’s terrifying. You should ask her out.”

He snorted. “I’m still dealing with finding out that I have four siblings and that my biological father might be a murderer. I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with dating right now.” He winced. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep well. I don’t mean to say shit about your dad.”

“Our dad,” I corrected. Accepting Jonah had been easier than I thought. He didn’t want a damn thing besides getting to know us. “Too much hot sausage and ‘shine last night?”

Jonah took the whole healthy lifestyle to levels that even I considered unhealthy. If it was processed or greasy, it went nowhere near his plate. He probably lay in bed at night starving from his rabbit food and protein shakes.

“I was rudely awakened by my roommate’s hissy fit this morning. What was with all the door slamming?” Jonah asked with a yawn.

“I was fighting with Cassidy,” I sighed.

“Really?” he perked up. “What’s up with that?”

“She knew about the DNA and didn’t tell me. Us. Didn’t say a damn word.”

“Well, she is a cop,” Jonah supplied.

“Whose side are you on? The next-door neighbor’s or your new roommate’s?”

“Depends on who’s right. Does she usually talk to you about ongoing investigations?”

“No.” She didn’t talk to me about much of anything. She talked to people around me. “But we had a right to know.”

“Maybe she was only following orders?” He was parroting Cassidy’s words back at me. The walls were too thin.

“Heard a lot, didn’t you?”

He shrugged and turned off the engine. “What’s her deal? Is she seeing anyone?”

Cassidy and my half-brother Jonah? The half-brother my dad had right after me. I’d sit across from them at Thanksgiving as they juggled babies and side dishes. I’d stand up for Jonah at their wedding and drink myself stupid for a week afterward. The mounds of snow scooped from the walkway took on a blood-red haze.

Jonah laughed. “Relax, man. I’m messing with you. I know you’re into her.”

I could feel my heartbeat in my head. Now I really wanted to kick his ass.

“I’m not into her,” I lied. It was easier than telling the truth, facing the truth.

“You’re full of shit,” he said as we climbed the front porch steps. “Why don’t you just tell her?”

We both paused and looked at Cassidy’s front door.

“It’s not like that,” I snapped. “We’re not like that.” I unlocked the front door.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be,” he pointed out.

That was exactly what it meant. Cassidy Tucker was off-limits. To me and Jonah.