Page 22 of Sins of the Fathers
When they got to the hospital, Dawson checked the parking lot for anything suspicious. He bristled at the sight of one of the sheriff’s vehicles.
“What’s Rollins doing here?” Dawson muttered.
“His job,” Grady observed drily. “Aside from having it in for our family, he’s a decent sheriff. He might be following up after the fight at The Maverick, or maybe he heard Knox was coming around and wanted to get a statement.”
“Maybe,” Dawson grudgingly admitted. He agreed that Rollins was a good sheriff with solid reasons to be perpetually annoyed at the Kings. But Rollins tended to rely on more conventional law enforcement sources and methods, even if he and much of his department were shifters. That left him constantly at loggerheads with Dawson’s family, who focused on supernatural crimes and occult investigations.
They heard raised voices as soon as they got out of the elevator on Knox’s floor.
“The boy is barely awake. Let him get his wits about him before you start grilling him,” Denny challenged, blocking the door to what Dawson guessed was Knox’s new room.
“Three questions—that’s all. Hardly an interrogation. If he can’t answer, I’ll try later. But the first memories are often the truest. Less time to be influenced by seeing or hearing other things,” Rollins argued.
“Are you saying we’d try to alter his testimony?” Denny sounded snappish, like he was running on fumes.
“Not on purpose. Come on, Denny. I’m trying to help. I don’t have to get your permission—Knox is a grown-ass man. Don’t make me barge in there just to do my job.”
Denny gave the sheriff the stink eye and then stepped aside. “I don’t like it, but I can see you’re not going to go away until you get what you want. Three questions. That’s it. If you need more, you come back when he’s had a chance to recover.”
“I want to catch whoever did this as much as you do,” Rollins said. “We’ve got someone in custody—but I have a feeling they didn’t come up with the idea themselves. If there’s a whole lot of ugly about to bust loose, I want a heads-up.”
Dawson and Grady hung back, waiting for the argument to be over before they followed Rollins and Denny into Knox’s room. Colt stood beside Knox’s bed, where a chair pulled up alongside made it clear he’d been keeping vigil.
Knox was sitting up in bed, and while he still wore a hospital gown and remained hooked up on a monitor, his color had improved, and the IV was gone.
“This isn’t a good time,” Colt said defensively, putting himself between Knox and the sheriff.
Knox drew him back by their clasped hands. “It’s okay, Colt. I can do this.”
“You just woke up,” Colt muttered.
“A couple of hours ago. I know my name, what year it is, who’s president, and I can count on my fingers,” Knox said with fond patience. “It’ll be all right.”
“Three questions,” Denny reminded the sheriff, who rolled his eyes.
“God, what is it with you Kings? Knox—glad to see you looking better,” Rollins said.
“Lucky to be here,” Knox replied. “But I’m still feeling peaked. Better ask me fast.”
Dawson couldn’t tell if Knox was manipulating the interview or telling the truth about his shaky recovery.Maybe a little of both.
“Did you see who drugged you?”
Knox shook his head. “No. Someone grabbed me from behind and jabbed me in the neck. It was ‘lights out’ before I hit the ground.”
“Do you know anyone who has it out for you?” the sheriff asked.
Colt inched closer in support, and Knox gave his hand a squeeze. “I’ve done wrong by people, but I’ve tried to make up for it. That doesn’t require anyone to forgive me, and I imagine some never will. I paid what I owed, and I left all that behind me. But I’ve got a theory.”
Knox reached for a paper cup of water next to the bed, and Colt hurried to hand it to him. After he’d taken a few sips, he looked back to the sheriff.
“I went to The Maverick to fix the dishwasher we’d sold them a month ago. Never been there before. It wasn’t a place I frequented back in the day, and I mostly stay out of bars now. I was alone in the kitchen, hunkered down in front of the machine, trying to reach a button on the inside. Would have been real easy for someone to overlook me,” Knox added and paused for another sip.
“I heard two men talking outside the kitchen. Didn’t see their faces and didn’t care at the time. One man said, ‘Gonna fuck those dogs up but good,’ and the other said, ‘make it look like teeth, and maybe the fangers will get the blame.’”
Fuck, Grady thought.That had to be connected to those coyote shifter deaths. And a bar full of Human Defense Front crazies? Yeah—not suspicious at all. Right.
“I was being quiet, but they must have noticed me then. It wouldn’t have taken much to track me back to the hardware store—I’d driven a company van,” Knox said. “Anyway, I went back to the shop to make sure payroll ran. I heard a noise out back, went to check, and two guys grabbed me and jabbed a needle in my neck. I woke up here. It could have been the same two guys I overheard at the bar. Again, I didn’t catch their faces. Too many shadows. But one was taller than me, the other had broad shoulders like a swimmer.”
