“I wouldn’t advise that, officers,” I said, my voice hardening into my command register.

The officer on the left, a stocky man with a red face and a thick mustache, hesitated.

He looked at my uniform, then at my eyes.

He saw the training there, the absolute willingness to break his collarbone before he could clear his holster.

“Easy, Colonel,” Brandon said, raising a hand to halt them. “We don’t need to make this bloody.”

“You brought the police,” I said. “You already chose the tone.”

“These are private security associates who happen to wear county badges,” Brandon said.

He walked over to a heavy oak desk and sat on the edge of it.

He picked up a silver paperweight, turning it over in his hand.

“My mother thinks she controls everything in this county,” he said.

“She doesn’t,” I said.

“No, she doesn’t,” Brandon agreed. “And neither does my idiot brother.”

The mention of my daughter’s husband made my jaw tighten.

“Where is Emily?” I demanded.

“Safe,” Brandon said. “For now. In the medical wing of the main house.”