Shadows of the Past (Logan Point Book #1): A Novel

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Authors: Patricia Bradley
Tags: FIC042040, FIC042060, FIC027110
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night?
    He uncapped the bottle and drank straight from it, pushing the question from his mind. Gotta think about something else. Like getting a lawyer, breaking the trust. Bet old Ethan wouldn’t like that. He acted like the money belonged to him. Scott wanted to see his face when he told him he was getting rid of him.
    Tomorrow. Scott would tell him tomorrow.
    He knit his brows together, trying to puzzle out the hazy memory that surfaced. Something about Ethan. Yeah, he’d tried to punch the trustee out when he wouldn’t give him any money. Maybe he wouldn’t go see him.
    Scott took another swig from the bottle. Next month he’d betwenty. One more year and he wouldn’t have to ask anybody for anything. The money would be his to spend any way he wanted. All five million.
    “You don’t need more money, Scott. Or alcohol. You need Jesus.” He stuck his fingers in his ears. He didn’t want to hear Angie’s voice tonight.
    “Jesus doesn’t want me,” he mumbled, draining the bottle. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and waited for the numbing relief. Maybe after tonight he wouldn’t drink anymore. Angie had always wanted him to quit.
    “I’m sorry, Angie.” Scott’s voice echoed down the alley. He should have been there. He would have protected her, not like Nick. Why hadn’t Nick kept his wife safe?
    Maybe he could crash at his brother’s house. Scott ran his hand over the top of his head, the short stubble of his crew cut prickling his fingers. Nope. He’d only get a lecture there, and that he could get from Dana .
    Nick wouldn’t have time for him, anyway. Nobody had ever had time for him . . . except Angie and his mama. Scott squeezed his eyes shut. If they could see him now, it’d kill them.
    He laughed. But they’re already dead . . . they can’t die twice . He laughed so hard his laughter turned into sobs. Great racking sobs.
    “No!” The scream echoed down the alleyway. Scott hurled the empty whiskey bottle against a garbage bin, shattering it. A cat yowled and skittered from behind the green bin. The back door to the video store flew open and his boss stormed out.
    “Sinclair!” he yelled. “You’re fired.”
    Scott struggled to his feet, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “Fired? What do you mean?”
    Johnson poked him in the chest. “Fired. F-i-r-e-d.” He shoved him, and Scott staggered against the wall. “I’m tired of you showing up half drunk, arguing with the customers. Now clear out. I don’t want to see your face around here ever again.”
    A slow burn started in Scott’s chest. Ross. It was all his fault. He lunged for Johnson and spun him around. “Ross. Where is he?”
    The manager shrugged his hands off. “Are you crazy?”
    “I said, where is he?”
    “I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew. Now beat it.” Johnson stepped through the doorway and slammed the door.
    “Wait! You owe me money!” Scott grabbed the doorknob and shook it. Locked. Turning, he stumbled out of the alley and rounded the corner of the building. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he leaned against the wall. When he straightened, a lone figure walked in the distance.
    Ross.

    Nick reclined in seat 3-A and stretched his calves. Legroom alone made up for the extra cost in first class. And if he got the right seatmate, maybe he could nap through most of the flight to Memphis and have the energy to start looking for his brother when he deplaned. If Taylor found Scott first, she’d probably have him slapped in jail first and ask questions later. Not that she could, but she probably could make Scott’s life miserable.
    He’d spent half the night tossing and turning, rehashing his conversations with Taylor Martin and then with Deputy Thornton, who wasn’t as convinced of Scott’s guilt as the professor. Nick still didn’t like the deputy, or the disdain he seemed to have about Taylor’s work, but at least the guy didn’t want to put his brother in jail.
    The only real tie between

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