Gray hoodie. Dale had said the guy who spooked him had been wearing a gray hoodie.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Bryce said to me. “Gray hoodies are a dime a dozen, sweetheart.”
Colin’s brow lifted ever so slightly at Bryce’s endearment, but that was the least of my concerns.
“Did the hoodie have any design? A school name? A team?”
“I don’t know. I only saw it from a distance.”
“You’re sure it was gray?” I asked.
“No, actually I’m not sure. Your boyfriend here asked me to think harder, and I did. That’s what I came up with, but like I said, it wasn’t anything memorable.”
“What does your father want from us?” Bryce said, his voice low and angry.
“Money, probably,” Colin replied matter-of-factly.
“He won’t get a penny out of the Steels,” Bryce said. “They’re pissed off now. You don’t take someone’s mother and then expect—”
“What?” Colin’s brows shot up.
“I didn’t get around to telling him that,” I said. “My mother is missing, Colin. Someone posed as Joe, walked right into her nursing facility, and took her.”
“But how? Don’t they have security?”
“They do, but there are ways around security,” I said. “Usually with money. And your father has money.”
“Not Steel money.”
“You don’t need Steel money to bribe nursing home caregivers,” I said. “You know that.”
“No. No way,” Colin said. “My father couldn’t have had anything to do with taking a mentally ill woman. He wouldn’t stoop—”
Bryce stood this time and grabbed Colin by the front of his shirt, bringing him to his feet. “Stoop? You mean stoop to blackmailing Jonah Steel by telling you to name him as your rapist?”
Colin’s face reddened. He didn’t try to break away.
“Bryce…” I began.
“Yeah, I know. You’ve been through hell, Morse, at the hands of my father. I’m not my father.”
Colin shrank into himself. “Your eyes. His eyes. I only saw his eyes.”
“Your father was probably wearing a mask,” I said. “Talon said all his assailants always wore masks when they…”
“A mask,” Colin said. “A mask. Your eyes…”
Bryce let go of Colin, and he sank back into the chair where he’d been sitting.
“I am not my father.” Bryce curled his hands into fists.
I rose and grabbed one of Bryce’s fisted hands. “No one is saying you are.”
“He is,” Bryce said through gritted teeth.
“He’s just saying you have your father’s eyes.” I paused a few seconds. “And you do.”
“And what else have I got that also was my father’s? Is that it? You think I could—”