His Texas Touch. AlTonya Washington

measure she swiped a few papers from the coffee table.

      “I’m sorry.” She groaned the words while holding her head in her hands.

      A frown crossed Paul’s sun-kissed features. Now he knew for sure that something heavy was going on.

      “Avra—”

      “Thanks for the tea, Paul. Why don’t you go ahead and take off for the night?”

      “Avra, are you sure everything’s all right?”

      She had to laugh, knowing she was making her assistant more nervous than usual.

      “I promise everything’s fine. I’m just trying to prove something to myself.” She tugged on the cuff of her pin-striped shirt and cast a woeful look toward the strewn papers. “I’m pretty sure it’s a lost cause.”

      “And it’s something you need to handle alone.”

      “Yeah.” She nodded and looked up at him with a weary smile.

      Paul reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

      “Thanks, hon.” She patted the hand on her shoulder.

      Alone in her office once more, Avra left the whirlwind of papers and went to help herself to a cup of the fragrant tea. There she debated over taking her own advice.

      She brought the mug to her mouth but didn’t sip. Instead she studied the mess she’d made in the office living area. Huffing, she set down the cup and went to tidy up. While gathering papers, she took another look at the oddly shaped page that had warranted a closer glance. Actually, it was a number scrawled between two sentences: 14918.

      “What the hell are you?” Avra tried to make sense of the numbers again, thinking that they had something to do with the sentences they had been written between.

      Unfortunately it seemed that the note was written as an afterthought. It had nothing to do with the paragraph that was part of the story on the John Holloway suicide. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the papers, she thought about what she’d told Paul about it all being a lost cause.

      “14918.” She muttered the numbers again before slapping the page to her thigh. “Dammit to hell,” she cursed, at last completely discouraged.

      * * *

      “Carson always suspected there was someone else on this besides him. I should have listened to him.” Shane Arroyo said his words tightly into the receiver.

      “This was important.” The voice on the other end of the phone line sounded grated, crackling through a poor connection. “You know as well as anyone that your brother was…disturbed.”

      “And now he’s dead.”

      “We’re sorry, Shane, but this is bigger than all of us.”

      “Would you have taken my brother out had the cops not beat you to it?”

      “I know you’re on the edge, Shane.” The voice sounded soothing, patient. “It couldn’t have been easy having to ID Carson’s body, so I’ll just forget your implications.”

      Shane’s mouth tightened.

      “Your brother didn’t die for nothing. The Melendezes will pay for what they did to your family—for what they’ve done to so many families.”

      “You’ll have as much to lose as the Melendezes when all of this comes out.”

      “But it still must come out.” The voice acknowledged Shane’s prediction. “It’s gone on too long and Dan’s making no move to stop it.”

      “But his sons—”

      “I can’t risk them moving in and playing heroes. That’s not in the plan and would not be in our best interest. The timetable will have to be upped in light of your brother’s passing. Do you understand?”

      Shane nodded before offering verbal confirmation. “I understand.”

      The call ended shortly afterward.

      * * *

      “Sorry, Daddy,” Avra was saying when she walked into Basil Ross’s office after applying a quick knock to the door. “Miss Doris wasn’t at her desk.” She cited the man’s assistant, Doris Shipman.

      “Come on in here, miss.” Basil’s affectionate name for his eldest child seemed to vibrate in the spacious room with its rich maple paneling, plush carpeting and floor-to-ceiling windows. He met Avra in the middle of the office where he plied her with a kiss, hug and his own apology.

      Surprise filtered through her vibrant brown eyes. “Dad?”

      Basil tucked her into his side and squeezed. “I’ve been pretty closed off for a while.”

      “Well, a lot’s happened.” It was the opening she’d been hoping for. “Some good.” She made a pretense of straightening her father’s tie. “Khouri’s getting married.”

      A broad grin illuminated Basil’s handsome face. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am by that and by the girl he’s chosen.”

      “Yeah, the weirdo finally lucked out. Setha’s a real catch.” Avra smiled over her combination playful insult and genuine compliment. Still, the ease of her expression began to show signs of weariness.

      “There’s been a lot of the not so good, too.” She tugged Basil with her to lean against the edge of the desk. “These murders… I know it has to hurt seeing such a good friend dealing with drama like this.”

      Basil left the desk at his daughter’s mention of the murders targeting the employees of Machine Melendez, the company founded by one of his oldest friends. Avra watched her father pacing the room and she knew where his mind was. Good. She wanted to keep it there.

      “You’ll be happy to know David and Noah are taking your suggestion—to follow the money,” Avra tacked on when Basil looked her way. “They might break this thing before the police.” She laughed slightly referring to the Ross Review reporters assigned to the MM murders story.

      “Have they found anything?” Basil watched his daughter closely.

      “No.” She focused on one of the small lavender buttons lining the front of her cap-sleeved blouse. “They’ve got lots of loose pieces, though. With any luck they’ll put ’em together soon enough.” She let her eyes drift downward then. “I’ve been putting together a few links of my own.” She noticed that her father had returned to his pacing. “I’ve been going through Wade’s old notes.”

      The pacing stopped.

      “Whatever for?” He sounded incredulous.

      “I think maybe Carson Arroyo had gripes with the Melendezes and the Rosses. Whatever it was, I’m betting it had something to do with his dad’s so-called suicide. Wade was working on that story in conjunction with John Holloway’s obit just before he died.”

      Basil shook his head, obviously confused.

      “Carson Arroyo was John Holloway’s son. Holloway was the Melendez employee who apparently killed himself after being fired.”

      Basil returned to his seat, slowly easing down to the corner. “How do you know this?”

      “Actually, it was Khouri and Setha who made the connection.” Avra faced her dad across the desk. She waited for the man’s reaction.

      “Do the police know?”

      She’d found what she’d come in search of. “It all came out when Carson was killed.” She nodded. “Maybe the cops can start putting it all together. In the meantime—” she slid off the desk and tugged on the hem of the satin blouse hanging outside her slacks “—I’m gonna do my part and dig some more. Maybe I can find a key to this mess.”

      “I don’t want you