They stopped to stare, and when they saw the two vehicles stopping in the street in front of the police station, they stayed to watch.
They hadn’t seen their sister up close in years and were horrified by the condition of her hair and clothing, but when they saw the men getting out with her and realized they were her sons, they were stunned. They would not have known their own nephews if they’d passed them on the street.
They weren’t the only ones who were curious about the racket, and when a crowd began gathering, they stood at the back out of curiosity. Then Leigh began talking, and when they heard the rage and the pain in her voice, and the accusations she was making, they left in a rush, frantic to get back to the family and find out what the hell was going on.
The fact that the crowd was still milling and talking when they tried to slip away set them at a disadvantage. They knew when people began calling out to them that this was going to get completely out of hand. By the time they got in Fiona’s car and drove away, they were nearly in tears.
“What in the world do you suppose has happened?” Nita asked.
Fiona shook her head.
“Who knows? I haven’t heard a single member of the family even say her name in years. Now this. It makes no sense,” she said.
Nita pulled out her phone.
“What are you doing?” Fiona asked.
“I’m calling Blake. If he’s not home, he needs to get there.”
“If you’re going that far, then tell him to gather the whole family. This is a mess that’s not going to go away soon,” Fiona said.
“Right,” Nita said, and waited for Blake to pick up.
When he finally did, his voice was terse and distracted. “What do you want, Nita? I’m about to take a conference call,” he snapped.
“Get home. Now. And make sure everyone else is there, too. We have a huge problem.”
Blake shoved his chair back from the desk and stood abruptly.
“What are you talking about?”
“Leigh and three of her sons just drove into Eden in a rage. Someone murdered her husband today. He wrote his killer’s name in the dirt before he died.”
“What does that have to do with us?” Blake asked.
“The name he wrote was Wayne. Leigh just called us all out in front of Chief Clayton and half the town, and pretty much promised to send the killer to hell.”
Blake gasped. “Son-of-a-holy-bitch! You cannot be serious.”
“I do not make jokes about the family skeletons. Get everyone home. Fiona and I are on the way.”
She hung up before Blake could argue and then dropped the phone in her purse.
They rode for a few moments in total silence, and then Fiona sighed. “I can’t believe Leigh would think any of us capable of that.”
Nita snorted.
“Get serious. Father already threatened to do that very thing, and Blake and Justin backed him.”
“But that was ages ago, and Father is dead,” Fiona said, and skidded through the turn into the open gates at the entrance to the Wayne estate.
“Uncle Jack is not dead, and they don’t call him Mad Jack Wayne for nothing. For that matter, Blake and Justin have more or less turned into Daddy,” Nita said.
“What possible reason would they have to do that after all these years? I don’t believe this. There has to be an explanation. Besides, our family law firm can destroy them in court. That could just as easily be the first name of a man we don’t even know.”
Nita looked up at the looming three-story mansion and shifted nervously in her seat.
“Leigh was scary, wasn’t she?”
Fiona sighed.
“Yes. With the scratches on her face and arms, and all that blood on her clothes, she looked like she’d been in a war, not to mention her sons were very protective of her.”
“And those sons are absolutely gorgeous,” Nita drawled.
Fiona gasped.
“Seriously, Nita! That sounded incestuous.”
Nita glared.
“It was just a comment about their physical appearances. I didn’t hit on them, for God’s sake.”
Fiona wheeled the car beneath the portico and slammed on the brakes, then looked up in the rearview mirror.
“Charles is right behind us, so I guess Blake is calling in the family as you asked,” she said.
*
Blake’s son, Charles, had just turned twenty-one and was constantly teased by the family that he drove like an old man, never speeding. He was a stocky, muscular young man, more like his mother’s people than the Waynes. After he’d turned sixteen, he’d chosen to live with his father instead of his mother, who’d returned to her family home in Florida. Charles had his eye set on a future in the family conglomerate. As he pulled up beneath the portico, he noticed his aunts were still in the car beside him.
He greeted them as they all got out together.
“Hey, Aunt Fee, what’s all the rush about getting home?”