Brody (Texas Boudreau Brotherhood #3) - Kathy Ivan Page 0,45

a little bit of gossip. Never intentionally to hurt someone, that wasn’t who she was, but load her up with a juicy tidbit here and there, and she was a happy camper.

“Gotcha.”

He pulled off his cowboy hat and slapped it against his thigh as he walked down the long hall, ending up at the conference room. This room had been a hotbed of activity over the last few months, more than it usually saw in a year. Like most small towns, Shiloh Springs had the occasional criminal activity, but nothing anybody would call major. Some weeks the biggest story might be Eliza and Dennis Boatwright sampling too much of their home brew, and getting a little loud and rowdy. Brody had lost count of the number of times Rafe made house calls on the local couple. They’d never intentionally hurt anybody, but they liked a bit of a tipple more than a bit. Brewing their own beer wasn’t illegal, though Brody got the impression they might brew more than beer, but he couldn’t prove it. As long as nobody got hurt, live and let live.

Opening the door to the conference room, he spotted Chance leaning back in his chair, hands folded across his midsection, seated across from Greg. Greg had regained the color in his face, but still looked kinda lost.

“Greg, I talked to your dad. Updated him on everything. He wanted to fly here, but I told him to stay with your mom.”

Greg shifted in his chair, and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it even more. “Good. The last thing he needs is more stress right now. Did he tell you about mom’s new treatments?”

Brody slid into one of the chairs lining the long table, and tossed his hat on the one beside him. “Yeah. I’m sorry to hear about her cancer returning.”

“I hate it. It’s a horrible, painful way to live. We’d hoped with the last round of chemo it was gone for good. She was doing really well. Her and Dad were doing things again, going out and having fun. Now, it’s like she’s fallen into a deep, dark hole she can’t climb out of. And the treatments, they’re worse than the disease.”

“I’m sorry. Is there anything they need?” Chance’s voice was filled with compassion.

Greg shook his head again. “Everything that can be done is being done. I know Dad’s been hoping to sell the property, to help offset the costs of the new treatments. Now, with this setback…” His voice trailed off and he leaned back in the chair, and scrubbed his hands across his face.

“We’ll get it figured out as soon as we can, I promise. I’ll talk to Momma, see what we can do about getting the place sold once the case is cleared. Hang in there, Greg.”

“Unless you need me for anything, I’ve gotta head out.” Chance stood and shook Greg’s hand. “Hang in there. Brody will figure out who burned your property, and I’ll be more than happy to prosecute them.”

“I’ve got it covered. Thanks, bro.”

After Chance left, Brody looked at Greg, wishing he really didn’t have to question his friend, but what choice did he have? There weren’t any suspects. Maybe with a little judicious prodding, Greg might be able to come up with some info, some subconscious knowledge that might click with a little poking beneath the surface.

“Go ahead, Brody. Ask me whatever you need to know.”

“Can you think of anybody who’d want to set the fire, intentionally or otherwise?”

“No. I mean, who’d have a reason for setting an abandoned, dilapidated, half-falling-down structure on fire? I have thought about it, wracked my brain, asking that question over and over, and I can’t come up with a single name.”

“Okay. When I asked your dad, he said he hadn’t kept up the insurance payments to cover the home or the barn, thinking it would sell right away. Did you know that?”

“I knew. Brody, I’ve gotta tell you something, and it’s gonna make me look guilty as sin. When Dad told me what he was going to do, let the policies lapse because they didn’t have the money with Mom’s treatments, I couldn’t let it go. The place, barn and house, it’s still insured. I made arrangements with the insurance company, took over the payments on the policy. I didn’t tell him or Mom. You know how he is: his stubborn pride wouldn’t have let me keep making the payments. So I kept it to myself.”

“Neither of your parents know about

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