Break for Me by Shiloh Walker

you?”
    *   *   *
    Guy knew the second she introduced the quiet, big man at her back that there was a
     problem. He knew the name. Dean’s brother had made quite a name for himself down in
     Lexington.
    Young, brilliant, had a thing for bones.
    This was one of those times where he could almost thank the evil son of a bitch who’d
     fathered him, because he’d learned at a young age that he had to hide everything he
     thought, everything he felt.
    Leaning back in his chair, he kept his hands flat on the arms, watching Jensen. She
     had her cop face on. He knew that face. But she couldn’t quite mask the look in her
     eyes. Not quite. “So what’s going on, Jensen?”
    She opened her mouth, but seconds ticked away and finally, she just looked at Dean.
    He glanced at his brother and Dr. Tyrese West stepped forward, placed a folder on
     Guy’s desk. “Dean asked me to take a look at the bones that were discovered in the
     trunk of the car,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “Unofficially, of course. If
     the sheriff’s office would like me to consult, I’m happy to do so, but this was just
     a favor. The Bell family has waited long enough to find answers.”
    Guy reached out and flipped open the folder, staring at the pictures. A long bone—broken.
     A femur, he thought and then noted the neat little notes on the sheet of paper the
     image was clipped to. Yes, a femur. Damage consistent with a crush injury —
    His gut knotted. Crush injuries. He’d heard that term before.
    Slowly, he looked. “Did you?”
    “Find answers?” Tyrese held his gaze. “I think all I have now are more questions.”
    “Why don’t you ask me those questions?”
    But Guy had a bad feeling he already knew at least one of them.
    Crush injury —
    Tyrese glanced at his brother and then looked back at Guy. The man’s eyes were big,
     dark and so sad.
    It was like he somehow already knew something awful. Something Guy didn’t even want
     to think about.
    *   *   *
    “Thanks.” Guy nodded as the guard left him alone with his father. They weren’t really
     alone—nobody left a prisoner unsecured in a jail, even when the man’s son was a deputy
     sheriff. Maybe even especially when the man’s son was a deputy sheriff.
    Theo Miller wasn’t an ugly man, even now.
    He was a cruel one, though, and that showed … in his eyes, in the way he looked at
     the world, in the way he carried himself.
    He settled at the table and leaned back, rested his cuffed hands on the table and
     gave his only child an insolent smile.
    His eyes were his father’s eyes, Guy knew. That smile? The arrogant curve of his lips,
     the stubble that was even now darkening Theo’s jaw, that was his, too.
    He looked so much liked that arrogant, evil bastard.
    “I had a visit today,” he said softly, keeping his distance.
    If he moved any closer, he might forget who he was. Who he’d fought so hard to become.
     He might become the man sitting across the room—the man Guy hated with every fiber
     of his being.
    “Yeah?” Theo looked around. “You bring me any cigarettes?”
    “You shouldn’t smoke. It will shorten your life.” He kept his arms folded across his
     chest. His hands ached .. He wanted to lunge across the room and grab the son of a bitch. Because he knew . He already knew.
    “Shorten my life? You worrying about me there, boy?”
    “I’d hate for you to die before you can go to court.”
    Something flickered in Theo’s eyes. “Court?” A sly twist of his lips. “What … am I
     getting a new trial about that fucking break-in? Innocent, I told you that, boy.”
    “Not the break-in,” he said softly. He let himself move a little closer, because he
     had to see it, had to be able to see the man’s eyes. “Theo, you remember fifteen years
     ago when you told a bunch of people that Butcher ran away?”
    There was the answer. It was minute, just a slight tightening around Theo’s eyes,
     gone so fast that Guy would have