“I didn’t realize you had left. It may surprise you, Rock, but I have way more important things to do to keep this company running smoothly than keep tabs on my new CEO.”

“Your new CEO?”

He rolled his eyes. “The company’s new CEO. Look. We both know I should have your job. Dad fucked us all over. Not just you.”

“I get that. I do. But at least you weren’t ripped out of a life you loved and forced into one you hate.”

“Rock, the only way any of us are going to get through this is if you have a change of attitude. As long as you hate this, resent this, none of us will be happy. Get it?”

Oh, I got it, all right. “Fuck you, Reid.”

“And fuck you right back. Thanks for listening, by the way.”

“I heard every word you said.”

“Did you? Then put them to use. For all our sakes.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but two blues walked in before I could, followed by a plainclothesman.

The plainclothesman held out his hand. “I’m Detective Hank Morgan.”

Reid shook his hand. “Reid Wolfe. My brothers Rock and Roy.”

I shook his hand. Limp handshake. Great. Just who I wanted on this investigation. Not that I cared who offed my father, but I sure didn’t want whoever it was coming after the rest of us.

“Will your sister be joining us?” the detective asked.

“I wasn’t able to get hold of her,” Reid said.

“But I just saw her at dinner.” I rubbed my chin, worry for my sister churning through me. What was going on with her?

“All right. Let’s all have a seat.”

There weren’t enough chairs for the two blues. “Why don’t we go into a conference room?” I said.

“Good enough.” Reid led the way.

Once we were seated at the table, Reid spoke again. “What’s the news that couldn’t wait until morning?”

“We got one set of prints from the gun we found at the scene, and we figured you’d want to know who they belonged to.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, shaking my head. “Whoever offed Derek Wolfe left the gun there?”

“Yup.” Morgan pulled out his phone. “Most likely a plant.”

“Meaning?” Roy asked.

“Meaning this weapon isn’t registered anywhere or to anyone, which indicates the serial number has probably been tampered with. We’re pretty sure the fingerprints on the gun don’t belong to the shooter—”

“They were planted,” I finished for him.

“Seems to be the case,” Morgan said.

“Who do they belong to?” Reid asked.

The detective looked directly at me. “They belong to you. Rock Wolfe.”

I stood, hot anger taking me over. “That’s insane. I wasn’t even in the state when this happened.”

“Calm down,” Morgan said.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Reid said. “How do you know they’re Rock’s?”

“We ran them.”