FORTY-THREE
Terra wished she wasn’t following Jack’s thinking, but how could she not?
If Leif was involved, then it logically followed that Owen could be as well. But she refused to believe that her brother could be part of this. And she held on to hope that Leif wasn’t their murderer. Because if he was, that would be too destabilizing for Owen. Terra rubbed her eyes as nausea rippled through her stomach. Time to move on to the next topic. “I’m going to talk to the curator myself today about the murder weapon found at his museum. I feel like there are some inconsistencies after reading the reports.”
“We can go together. But I think it’s a priority that we should shadow Leif. See where he goes while he’s here.”
“You mean in addition to meeting with my grandfather in his office.” Looked like the day and her teamwork with Jack were getting off to a bad start. Terra resented the shards of offense jabbing through her. “I already explained that. I’m glad Gramps asked Leif about how Owen was really doing.” As if Leif would know better than she and Gramps, who’d been with Owen since he got home.
Maybe they were only seeing what Owen wanted them to see. She thought of his late night on the laptop and how he tried to get rid of her.
Nausea again.
Oh, Owen. He couldn’t be trying to raise funds for his equestrian project by selling artifacts, could he? No. He wasn’t involved. She knew Owen. Or at least she had known him before he left when she was a teenager, and he’d spent his life on the other side of the world, experiencing God knew what.
“Yes, I do mean in addition to your grandfather’s office.” Jack arched an eyebrow, a questioning look in his eyes.
What kind of investigator would she be if she tried to steer them away from Leif because of her brother?
Her throat constricted. “I agree we should shadow Leif.”
Terra pushed down the rising bile. God, please let Owen be innocent here.
She admitted to herself—but not to Jack—that the Owen who had come home to them was not the same Owen who had left. But everyone changed. She certainly wasn’t the same person she was when she’d moved to Colorado.
“Hey, where’d you go?” Jack’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“I’m here. Sorry.”
“Any idea how much money can be made trafficking artifacts? Native American or otherwise?”
Terra sipped her water before answering. “I wouldn’t think it would be worth murder. Especially not two murders. But this Middle Eastern item, I have no idea. I’ll look into it, but I suppose it’s about what collectors are willing to pay. Collectors and auction houses.” Terra had a lot more work to do.
“And the money paid goes to individuals? Or ... certain nefarious organizations?”
She nodded. “I know where you’re going with this. Like guns and drugs, anything that can make money can fund the cause of terrorism.”
And her brother was definitely not involved in funding a cause he’d lost his leg fighting against.