Luke nodded, but his eyes became guarded. “How is he?”
“Focused.”
Luke chuckled. “When’s he not?”
“You know he’s been looking into Dad’s death and the will.”
“Cara,” Luke groaned, rubbing his hands over his face, and then clasped them loosely on top of his head. “I don’t want to talk about that. I don’t want to fight with Declan, and the last thing I want is for you to get pulled into it. Leave it alone. Dec and I will get our shit sorted out eventually. We just need a good fight and a couple drinks. No need to worry, Car-Bear.”
He reached out and ruffled her hair pulling several chunks out of her ponytail.
“Quit it!” She smacked his hand away. “I’m not trying to get between you and Declan. You’re both so pigheaded it’s not worth the trouble.”
Luke grunted.
“I’ve stayed out of it for the most part. I don’t know what I thought immediately after Dad died. Then right after was the tabloid disaster, and I felt…”
Luke shifted uncomfortably on the bench next to her. Her brothers and feelings were like oil and water.
She tried again. “I agree with you and James that Declan is fixated on breaking the will and proving Courtney is to blame. I thought it was his grief… But he said something that made me think.”
Luke sighed, his eyes on the river.
“Did you know that Declan takes Mrs. Woodson out to lunch once a month?”
A smile played around the corners of Luke’s mouth, lightening his expression a fraction. “Does he really?”
“I think he feels responsible for her.”
Luke scowled again. “Of course, he does. Who doesn’t Declan think he’s responsible for?”
“She told him, that in the weeks before he died, our father refused to eat or drink anything that wasn’t brought to him by her.”
Luke sat up straighter on the bench, his brows dipping, before he relaxed again. “He wasn’t well, Cara. You know that.”
“I’m well aware of that, Luke!” she snapped. “I’m the only one who actually went to see him.”
Luke’s lips thinned and his gray eyes turned flinty. She thought he would snap back, but instead he pulled in a slow breath through his nose and rose to his feet, extending his hand to her.
“I regret that. I do. But you and I don’t see the old man the same way. Never have. You’re my baby sister, and I love you. I’m not going to fight about this.”
“I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”
“I know.” He stretched his arms over his head and took another deep breath, letting it out in a loud exhale. “It’s gorgeous out here, but we should start back.”
Cara didn’t want to fight either, but she needed him to hear what Declan had learned. Taking his elbow, she pulled him to a stop. The resigned expression that stared down at her told her that, even though he thought she and Declan were wrong, he would listen just to humor her.
“Dad might have been paranoid; he might even have had the beginnings of dementia. But what if there is something to it? Declan’s gone over the medical records. Dr. Keller did order tests for toxins. They didn’t find any, but Declan thinks it might have been something that would only show up in an autopsy.”
“How did Dec—never mind, I don’t want to know. If they tested for poison and didn’t find any, that’s proof there wasn’t any. Dad was paranoid. It’s not unusual for the elderly to become confused.”
“Why do you think Courtney had him cremated so fast?”
Luke’s expression darkened at the memory, and then he echoed her own thoughts. “Could just be she’s a heartless bitch. If that’s true, and the will is real—Cara, don’t forget there were witnesses to it—that means Dad thought one of us was behind it.”
He pulled her into a sudden, fierce hug so that she had to turn her face against his chest to breathe. His breath was uneven, too. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, Luke was just as affected by their father’s death as she was.
“David Bloom put on a good show to the world of loving us. But it wasn’t real. We were just one more asset he could show the world. If he knew us, he would know none of us would ever hurt him.”
