Page 90 of Meant for Her

The sheriff blew out a long breath “Who killed this Fred Hogan?”

Pete looked over at Luke and then Ryan. “Their father did.”

Oh, shit.“Why?” Yes, this was the sheriff’s interrogation, but once more, Luke couldn’t help himself. “Never mind. I can guess. He owed him money from a gambling debt, just like everyone else.”

“Yes. Mr. Hogan came to the house demanding your dad give him the money. Naturally, your father didn’t have it, though Emory said he was willing to give him cows. Hogan refused.”

“You weren’t present for this confrontation?” the sheriff asked.

“No. I was on the ranch tending to the animals. Emory came riding out, saying that he needed help. At first, I thought it was because he was bleeding from the shoulder, but Emory was tough. He wasn’t worried about that. He told me that man threatened to kill him. Guns were drawn. According to Emory, Hogan got off the first shot. That’s when Emory returned fire. Hit him in the heart. Emory said he hadn’t meant to do that, but Hogan had moved.”

Luke wasn’t aware his father was a particularly good shot, but if they both were in the house, he didn’t need to be. What Luke really wanted to ask was if Hogan was a werewolf. If so, why use guns instead of shifting and fighting?

“Did you help bury him?” the sheriff asked.

“I did. Mr. Lattimore was my boss. I couldn’t afford not to.”

“Why not report the man’s death if Emory killed him in self-defense?”

“Emory saw this as his chance to disappear. The Franklin cartel that runs the casino would have killed Emory for sure.”

“He couldn’t confide in his own sons?” Ryan asked, his voice shaking.

“He didn’t want you to come looking for him. You’d be accessories.”

Ryan shook his head, not knowing if that was any better. “Instead, he left us with all his debts and a nearly bankrupt ranch?”

Pete held up his palms. “I can’t speak for the man. If you ever see him, ask him.”

“Where is the son of a bitch?” Luke asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Mr. Rizolli,” the sheriff said. “I imagine Mr. Lattimore had something on you or you wouldn’t have kept quiet for three years.”

That was quite astute of the sheriff. Luke might have thought along those lines had he been thinking clearly.

Pete glanced to the side. “He, ah, pays me to keep quiet.”

Ryan huffed out a laugh. “Dad has money to pay you? What did he do? Rob a bank?”

Pete’s face colored. “For once in his life, he gambled and won.”

That must have been one big ass pot of money. Dad must have feared Pete would say something, because spending money to keep Pete quiet was not in their father’s nature.

“How does he send you the money?” the sheriff asked.

“It just shows up in my bank account.”

Bingo. Luke bet the sheriff could get a court order to find out where the money came from. Ryan might be able to help with the forensic accounting part, but they’d find their father one way or the other. What they would do when they found him, he wasn’t sure.

“How did you afford to buy that ranch?” Ryan said.

“I never spent any of the money your dad sent me. When I had enough, I bought the land.”

So far, everything Pete said sounded reasonable. “Did you steal our cows?” It made sense that he would.

His hands clenched, and his eyes flashed golden for a moment—and the color had nothing to do with sexual excitement. “I would have never done that. Those are your cows, fair and square.”