“Think of what we’ve already lost. What we can still lose, Dad,” Jace said hauntingly. “My son or daughter deserves to spend the time with you that the three of us lost. I want that for my child. For your grandchild.”
Agony shone on Sheppard’s face, was etched deep in his features. “Do you know what you’re asking me?”
“Yes,” Caden said with conviction. “To let us be the men we were raised to be.”
Sheppard shook his head. “But not for this. You’re a musician, Caden. Jace, you’re an attorney.” He glanced over at his youngest son and couldn’t help the smile that touched his lips. “And Dalton, you’re still trying to find your way.”
Under a certain woman’s skirt, Dalton thought, but his expression showed he was digesting his father’s perspective. “You’ve forgotten to take something very important into account, Dad,” Dalton said, leaning back in his chair.
“What?”
“Regardless of how you try to size us up, we’re still your sons. Grangers. And I’ve never known a Granger to back down from a fight...or a challenge.”
Sheppard could see this conversation was not going the way he’d hoped. His sons were stubborn. And they didn’t know everything. He stood up and began pacing, knowing that everyone in the room, including Ambrose, was watching him.
He finally stopped pacing and faced them. “There’s something else. Something you should all know.”
Jace stood, as well, resting his hip on the edge of the table. Alert and attentive. “What?”
“It’s something your grandfather and I suspected.”
“Which was?” Caden asked just as alert and attentive.
“Marshall Imerson.”
Dalton raised a brow. “Wasn’t he the private investigator Granddad hired to look into your case?”
“Yes.”
“I recall hearing he was killed while driving under the influence,” Jace said.
Sheppard nodded. “That’s what the police report said, but Dad and I never believed it, because we knew Marshall didn’t drink. There were even rumors of financial problems within his company, and that he was into something illegal. I think those lies were spread deliberately so no one would suspect anything about his death.”
“Anything like what?” Dalton asked, tension within him mounting.
“That he was murdered.”
“Murdered?” Jace asked, shocked.
“Yes. He had contacted Dad about some new evidence he’d uncovered and was very excited about it. A few days later, before he could meet with Dad and tell him what he’d found, he was dead.”
Dalton was fully aware of how silent everyone had become; even the prison guard appeared to have gone numb. “So you think...”
“Yes,” Sheppard said, anticipating Dalton’s question. “I believe he was too close to uncovering something, and someone didn’t want that to happen. Whoever silenced Marshall is still out there, and that same person doesn’t want anyone reopening my case. He’ll do just about anything to make sure no one does.”
Sheppard paused a minute. “So not only will the three of you be in danger, whoever you hire to reinvestigate my case could find himself in danger, too. Take my advice and let it go. I’ll be up for parole in a couple of years and—”
“No, Dad,” Jace interrupted in an adamant tone. “We’re moving forward. Risk or no risk.”
*
A sliver of daylight from the hallway came into the room, and Dalton saw that his dad was still sitting at the table. It was easy to see his head was lowered in frustration.
“Dad?”
Shep lifted his face to stare at his son. “Dalton? I thought all of you had left.”
“Not yet,” Dalton said, coming into the room and closing the door behind him. “Jace and Caden are outside in the hallway talking to Ambrose. I convinced him I needed to speak with you privately. He agreed to break another rule for me.”