“No wonder your brother—”

“Half brother.”

“Right. No wonder he’s ticked. Your father’d rather give the house to an environmental group than him. The two of them must have had one hell of a falling out somewhere along the way.”

Alicia remembered the date on the will—only weeks before that man had died. Was that when he’d cut Thomas out—or had he always been out?

“I wouldn’t know. As I told you, I’ve had no contact with either of them since I left for college.” And wish it had remained that way. “And as for that man being ‘green’… that’s almost laughable. I don’t think he ever gave a single thought to the environment in his life. He had… other interests.”

Jack frowned and leaned forward. “Then why did he—?”

“I have no idea. None of this makes any sense. The way things are worded… I don’t know much about law, but I can’t imagine this being a typical last will and testament. I mean, it’s almost as if he expected this kind of violence in connection with the house.”

“Why do you say that?”

Alicia leaned over and pulled the will from her shoulder bag. She had no trouble finding the passage—she’d underlined it.

“Just listen to this: ‘If Alicia dies before she can take possession of said house, or if she dies after she takes possession of said house, said house shall be deeded to the international environmental activist group known as Greenpeace with this message: This house holds the key that points the way to all you wish to achieve. Sell it and you lose everything you’ve worked for.’ “ She slammed the document down on her desk. “Can you tell me what the hell that’s supposed to mean?”

“Can I see it?” Jack said, leaning forward.

Instinctively Alicia reached for the will, to grab it and put it away. She didn’t want anyone knowing about her family. But she stopped herself. She had to trust someone, and Jack was all she had right now.

She pushed the will toward him. “Knock yourself out.”

She felt her jaw clench as she watched Jack scan the page. She was on edge and knew it. Ready to take a bite out of somebody. She’d thought she was free of that man, but even from the grave he was managing to make a mess of her life.

“You know,” Jack said, nodding, “this really does sound like he expected trouble.” He looked up at her. “Your brother ever been jailed?”

“No.”

“Drug problem? Violence?”

“Not that I know of.” Thomas had problems, but not those.

Jack began flipping though the rest of the will. “Then why…?” He stopped and stared. “What’s this? Poetry?”

“Yes! Can you believe it?”

Jack began reading. “ ‘Clay(ton) lies still, but blood’s a rover.’ “