Before this week was out, he’d mull over everything Kathleen had said, try to determine whether the electricity he felt in Grace’s presence was a permanent increase in wattage or a temporary power surge, and decide what to do about Becky—and the appealing forensic pathologist he hadn’t known a mere ten days ago.

“What’s the matter with you tonight, boy? You’re jumpy as a hog on butchering day.”

As his big brother cackled at their father’s question, Tyler looked over from the TV to find his old man watching him. “What do you mean?”

His father aimed a pointed glance at his jiggling foot.

Tyler put the brakes on his leg.

“You having trouble at work?”

“No. Job’s fine.” Even if the rest of his life was a mess. The sheriff hadn’t bothered him anymore, but that didn’t mean the problem had gone away. The man had said he’d be in touch if Tyler didn’t call him. Cox was probably trying to dig up more dirt on him.

And there was plenty to find if he got lucky again, like he had with Mavis Templeton.

Talk about a rotten break.

Who could have predicted someone would be driving by at such a late hour on that quiet country road?

And how on earth had the sheriff connected her with Fred?

“. . . off in la-la land.” At his brother’s taunt, Tyler tuned back into the conversation. “Or maybe he’s found a new source for weed.”

Tyler glared at his older sibling. “I don’t do drugs. But if I wanted to, marijuana’s legal in a bunch of states.”

“Not Missouri.”

“Tyler, what aren’t you telling us?” His father squinted at him, ruddy-faced from hours in the fields—and from the combination of suspicion and displeasure Carl Holmes always reserved for his younger, screwup son.

Joining him and the favored heir for the duo’s usual Sunday sports and pizza night had been a mistake. But he was probably going to need a lawyer, and his father was the only source of funds for that.

Unless he wanted to dig himself deeper into the hole he was already in.

“Tyler.” His father’s tone darkened.

“I’m tired, okay? We were busy at the feedstore this week. It’s hard work.”

“Hard work never hurt anybody. It builds character. I worked hard all my life, turned this broken-down farm into a money-making operation. I’m not putting it in the hands of anyone who isn’t willing to work up a sweat to keep it going.”

Irritation pricked his composure. “I busted my butt for years on this farm.”

“I’m not saying you don’t have it in you to work hard, but I want to see you keep your nose clean and show some responsibility. Prove you can stick to a job and pay your bills.”

“How come Wayne never had to prove himself?”

“Your brother has never given me a lick of trouble.”

Tyler glanced at him, and Wayne raised his can of beer with a smirk.