In Close (Bulletproof #3)(34)
Author: Brenda Novak

Now he wondered if he had the right place. The man who answered his knock lived in a rambling Mediterranean-style home located in an exclusive community, and he wore a tailored suit, which was a far cry from what Isaac had expected him to be wearing. Hunters could be all sorts of people—professionals in their day jobs—but this guy didn’t have the ruddy countenance or work-roughened hands Isaac usually saw on experienced outdoorsmen. Lean and angular, with dark hair gelled off his face, he looked about forty years old and seemed far too sophisticated to have made such a terrible mistake.

“Mr. Weaver?”

He held a set of keys in his left hand, which also sported a wedding band with a large diamond. Isaac guessed he’d caught Weaver just as he was about to leave. “Yes?”

“Les Weaver?”

His knuckles whitened on the door as if he was tempted to slam it. “Yes. Who are you?”

“Isaac Morgan. From Montana.” He thrust out his hand, but Weaver didn’t shake it.

“You’re a long way from home, Mr. Morgan. What can I do for you?”

Isaac thought the mere mention of his home state might cause a visible reaction, considering Weaver had killed a man there, but other than a subtle tightening in the muscles of his face and his refusal to shake, he didn’t let on that he had any bad memories of the place.

Dropping his hand, Isaac stepped back and gazed around. “Nice house.”

“Thanks. I think. You still haven’t told me what you want.”

“I was wondering if I could speak to you about what happened in the Cabinet Mountains a year ago.”

Weaver studied Isaac without any visible change in expression. “Are you with the sheriff’s office?”

“No, I’m a P.I. hired by Mr. O’Toole’s wife.”

His eyes slid to Isaac’s truck, which didn’t make Isaac look any more like a private investigator than this man’s suit made him look like a hunter. “Do you have a card?”

Isaac wished he’d thought to create some sort of proof to substantiate the lie. But he hadn’t planned that far ahead. As soon as he had an address, he’d taken off. It wasn’t until he saw who he’d be dealing with that he realized he needed to approach Weaver in a professional capacity if he expected this to go anywhere. Weaver was the kind of man who’d respect nothing less. “Not on me. But I’m sure there’s one in the truck. I’ll go—”

“I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He glanced over his shoulder as though he was afraid someone might overhear. “Just tell me why you’re here. Why would Mrs. O’Toole hire a private investigator?”

“Some evidence that’s recently come to light suggests her husband’s death wasn’t so much an accident as murder.”

He paled. “What evidence?”

He was growing agitated beneath that calm exterior, but even a man who’d shot someone by accident wouldn’t be happy to hear this. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

“That death couldn’t have been a murder.”

“Why not?”

“Because I shot him myself, and it was definitely an accident. The police know all this. I’ve already spoken to them.”

“Les? Is it for me?” a female voice called.

“No, I’ve got it, honey,” he called back.

Isaac went on as if they hadn’t been interrupted. “They’re considering reopening the case, so you’ll probably be hearing from them.”

“Oh, God.” He raked a hand through his hair, messing up that perfect lift at his forehead. “I don’t know what more I can say. I saw movement. I thought it was the bear I’d been tracking, and I took a shot. That was the worst decision of my life.”

His remorse sounded sincere enough that Isaac felt a little foolish for doubting him. If Weaver was as innocent as he claimed, Isaac had no desire to make his life more difficult. This man’s education, manner of dress and home lent him credibility. He wasn’t some thug, as Isaac had imagined.

Isaac almost apologized and left. But he figured he might as well finish the interview. “You were alone when it happened, is that correct?”

“Yes. The sheriff who questioned me knows I was.”

“Do you often go hunting alone?”

“I used to. That was how I cleared my head.”

“What made you choose the Cabinet Mountains?”

“They’re relatively close, and I’d heard they have a lot of game.”

“You don’t have friends in Pineview?”

“No.”

“Do you know anyone in the area?”

“Not a soul. That was the first time I’d ever been to that part of Montana, and I haven’t been back since.”

“But you still hunt?”

He stretched his neck. “No. Are you kidding? I’m done with it. I’m sure you can understand why. Shortly after that…unfortunate event, I got rid of all my guns. I don’t even want to see one, let alone fire it.” He added a rueful laugh that sounded as believable as the rest of his admission.

“I’m guessing guns don’t play much of a role in your day job.” Isaac indicated his attire.

A wry smile curved his lips as he brushed some lint from his suit. “No. That last incident didn’t have anything to do with me. Not directly.”

Isaac had all but decided he’d made a wasted trip. Until now. “That last incident?”

He grimaced. “I’m a bankruptcy attorney. Not long ago I had a client shoot himself in my office. It’s tough to lose everything, you know? BK really hits some people hard.” He looked confused. “I assumed that’s what started this up again. His wife refuses to believe he was suicidal, so she’s been digging around in my past, trying to cause me trouble. But I couldn’t have saved her husband. It happened too fast.” Bowing his head, he muttered, “It was terrible.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Now you know why I don’t want to see this old…hunting nightmare crop up again,” he said as he straightened. “David O’Toole’s death was my fault, but I didn’t mean to kill him. I swear it.”

“Les, you ready?” the same female voice called out.

Isaac caught a glimpse of a woman through the railing of a winding staircase.

“I’ve already got the keys,” he told her. Then he lowered his voice. “We’ve got a luncheon today. We raise money for autistic kids and we’re going to meet with the board of our charity. So if you have any other questions, maybe you can visit me at my office? I really don’t want to upset my wife. Both tragedies have affected her as deeply as they have me.”