But at least now we'd know for sure.
I went back to the bedroom, got in bed.
Mira stirred. "You okay?"
"Yeah."
She put her hand on my chest. "Try to get some sleep."
"I will."
But I didn't, just lay there thinking about all the ways this could go.
If the cousin was involved, that meant someone from Hank's own family had killed him.
Cut off his head, left it at our gates, dumped his body in the woods.
All for what? A bar?
The Spoke was worth something, sure, good business, decent property, but was it worth killing for?
Maybe to someone desperate enough.
Someone who needed money, who saw Hank as standing between them and a payday.
I thought about the way the cousin had looked around The Spoke yesterday, like he was appraising it, calculating what it was worth.
Not like someone
