Inheritance Of Secrets

Punctual

"Fine." I hung up on him as soon as I could, and I answered him. I really hope he didn't want to talk about the other night.

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When I got to the library at exactly 9:32, as expected, I found Grayson, Avery, and Jameson there too.

Grayson didn't wait a second and turned and asked his brother, "What are we doing today?"

"We?" Jamie shot back at him. He was mad that Grayson would think he even thought he had a right to be here.

Grayson cuffed his sleeves, putting on a face that I could only see as serious, with a mix of excitement. "Can't an older brother spend time with his brother?" he turned to me. "A family friend," he turned back to Avery and Jameson, "and an interloper of dubious intentions without getting their degree?"

I scoffed, walked over to a bookshelf, and pulled out a book. I don't really know what I pulled out. It seemed to be about the serial killer Everett Banks. He killed 14 men and women before being caught. Less than some, but still a lot.

"He doesn't trust me with you," Avery translated from the gibberish that Grayson just spoke.

"I'm such a delicate flower." Jameson's tone was light, but I could see how he was disgusted by the sentence, "In need of protection and constant supervision."

Grayson was undaunted by sarcasm. "So it would seem." He gave a small smile that seemed to force a razor-sharp gaze over the two of them.

"Why am I here then?" I don't know why I am asking. I know it's to check for lies and emotional changes and to profile certain individuals.

"Well, we have to ask Jameson about that. What are we doing today, brother?" His tone seems forced and almost unreal, but it is something you cannot ignore.

"Heiress and I, possibly Annabelle too," Jameson replied pointedly, "are following a hunch, doubtlessly wasting sinful amounts of time on what I'm sure you would consider to be nonsensical flapdoodle."

Jameson was excited. I watched his face carefully. He always had the same face when solving his grandfather's puzzles. His right eye squinted the tiniest bit, and he would bite on the tip of his tongue.

Grayson frowned. "I don't talk like that." He was getting more annoyed at Jamie by the minute.

"You definitely do." I laughed, and Grayson turned to glare at me now.

Grayson then proceeded to narrow his eyes. "And what hunch are the two of you and possibly Annabelle following?"

There was a second of silence before Avery finally spoke. "We think your grandfather's letter to Jameson included a clue about what he was thinking."

She was feeling a little nervous when she said it. I could see it in the way her right eye squinted the tiniest bit as she said it.

"What he was thinking," Grayson repeated, his head tilted the tiniest bit as his gaze stayed on Avery, trying to study her, "and why he left everything to you."

Jameson leaned back against the doorframe. "It sounds like him, doesn't it?" he asked Grayson. "One last game?"

In some way, Jameson wanted his brother to agree with him. Jameson needed to be right sometimes. He was hungry and needed to win, and he needed to beat others to show that he was just as good as his brothers.

"Frankly, Jamie," Grayson commented, "I'm surprised you still feel you know the old man at all."

"I am just full of surprises." Jameson's eyes shifted in a way that let all the excitement he just had disappear. "And you can leave at any time, Gray."