Chapter 35 #2
“We do.” Brandt nodded, his expression grave. “And to at least fourteen other cases across Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming. The operation is sophisticated—multiple safe houses, rotating personnel, professional counterintelligence measures.”
“Why the Marshals’ involvement?” she asked. “This sounds like FBI jurisdiction.”
“Normally, yes.” Brandt picked up his coffee again and sat back, taking a long drink before he continued.
“But the man Ghost killed during the rescue was Julián ‘Maldito’ Reza, a fugitive with ties to the Sinaloa cartel. We’ve been after him for years.
That puts it on our radar. And given the cross-jurisdictional nature of these crimes, the Marshals Service is uniquely positioned to coordinate. ”
“And you’re here because...?” Naomi let the question hang.
“I need your firsthand account. Everything you remember about your abduction, the location, the men involved. Any names you might have heard, routines you observed, conversations you overheard.” His gaze sharpened. “And I need to know about Leila Padilla.”
The shift in topic sent a jolt through Naomi. “Leelee? What about her?”
“Her body was recovered two days ago in a ravine near where you were held.”
“What?” The word escaped as a whisper. Naomi’s hand went to her throat, fingers closing around the fox pendant. She’d known, of course—had suspected from the moment she’d been taken that Leelee had met a similar fate. But confirmation hit like a physical blow.
“I’m sorry.” For the first time, genuine emotion colored Brandt’s voice. “I understand she was important to you.”
“She was important, period,” Naomi corrected, fighting to keep her voice steady. “She was a person with dreams and family who loved her. Not just a statistic or a case file.”
“Of course.” Brandt nodded, and in that small gesture, Naomi caught a glimpse of something unexpected—a man who saw the humanity behind the badge he carried.
“How did Leelee die?”
“Brutally,” Brandt said softly. “She was beaten and raped, then strangled with her own stockings. But we’re keeping that detail out of the press.”
“Jesus,” Walker said from his desk and threw back his coffee like a shot. “That poor girl.”
Brandt glanced in his direction before returning his attention to Naomi. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure she gets justice. Her and all the others, including your cousin. I’m reopening Mary Rose’s case.”
Naomi’s heart thudded against her ribs. Mary Rose. After all these years, someone was finally looking into what happened to her cousin. Someone with actual authority and resources. She glanced at Owen, finding his eyes already on her, watchful and steady.
“Thank you,” she managed, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s been a long time since anyone in law enforcement took Mary Rose’s case seriously.”
Brandt nodded, his expression softening slightly. “I’ve reviewed the original investigation. It was... inadequate.”
That was an understatement. The tribal police had searched for three days before declaring Mary Rose a runaway. By the time they’d found her body a week later, evidence had been compromised by weather and animals. The case had gone cold almost immediately.
“We’re also reopening the investigation into Alice Dougherty’s disappearance,” Brandt continued after giving her a moment to absorb the news.
Naomi’s chest tightened. “Alice Dougherty. Greta’s sister.” Her voice came out as a whisper.
“Yes.” Brandt’s expression remained carefully neutral, but Naomi caught a flicker of something—compassion, maybe—in his eyes. “Even though she was white and not Indigenous, she fits the pattern.”
The room seemed to shrink around her, the walls closing in.
All these years, she’d been fighting this battle alone, screaming into the void while girls and women vanished.
And now, suddenly, the system was paying attention.
It felt surreal, like she’d stumbled into an alternate reality where her work actually mattered to people with power.
“I want to help,” she said, sitting forward. “Whatever you need—my notes, my research on the patterns, interviews with the families—I have everything.”
Brandt hesitated, his gaze sliding briefly to Owen, who had gone utterly still beside her. The tension radiating from him was almost tangible, like heat from a fire.
“I appreciate that,” Brandt said carefully. “But given your recent trauma—”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, cutting him off. “And I know things about these cases that aren’t in any official record. I’ve spent years talking to families, building trust with people who won’t speak to badges.”
She felt Owen shift beside her, his body angling subtly toward her. She didn’t need to look at his face to know he was against this. The protective energy coming off him was unmistakable.
Brandt studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Alright. I could use your insights. I’d like you to come with me to talk to Sheriff Goodwin if you’re up for it.”
“No,” Owen said, voice absolute, brooking no argument.
Naomi turned to him, skimming her hand over his arm. His muscles were coiled tight beneath her fingers, ready to spring.
“Hey,” she said softly, for his ears only. “This is what I’ve been working toward. A chance to actually do something that matters.”
His jaw worked, the muscle there jumping with tension. “You don’t need to do this now. You’re still healing.”
She slid her hand up to his face, not caring that Walker and Brandt were watching.
“I need to do this,” she whispered. “For Mary Rose. For Alice. For Leelee. For all of them.” Her thumb brushed his cheekbone. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Owen’s face softened slightly, his eyes searching hers. For a heartbeat, she thought he might continue to fight her on this, but then his shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. “Then I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not,” Walker said and rose from his chair. “Ghost, you walk in there, Hank will make up some bullshit excuse to arrest you just like he did to Jax this summer.”
Owen swore viciously, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Naomi felt his body coil tighter beside her, his stillness now ominous rather than calm. She squeezed his arm and waited until he met her gaze.
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “And I’ll have my fox.” She touched the pendant at her throat.
His jaw worked as he struggled with his protective instincts. Finally, he nodded once, the movement so slight she might have missed it if she hadn’t been watching for it.
“When do you want to speak with Sheriff Goodwin?” she asked, turning her attention back to the marshal.
“Now, if you’re up for it.” Brandt checked his watch. “I have a meeting with him at noon.”
Naomi glanced at Owen, whose face had settled into the carefully blank mask she recognized from their early days. She wanted to reach for him again, to smooth away the tension around his eyes, but she knew better than to push him further in front of others.
“I’m up for it,” she said instead, rising to her feet. Her ribs protested the sudden movement, but she ignored the twinge. “Let me change first.”
As much as she loved wearing Owen’s clothes, it wasn’t appropriate for a meeting with the sheriff.
Brandt nodded and stood as well. “I’ll wait in the car.”
As soon as the marshal stepped outside, Owen was on his feet, his hand catching hers. “This is a mistake.”
“It’s an opportunity,” she corrected gently. “One I’ve been fighting for since Mary Rose disappeared.”
“Goodwin is corrupt as hell, and if he’s connected to these disappearances—”
“Then that’s exactly why I need to go.” She placed her palm against his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath her fingers.
His hand covered hers, pressing it tighter against his chest. “Promise me you won’t take any unnecessary risks.”
“I promise.”
He studied her face for a long moment, as if memorizing her features. Then he leaned down and kissed her, hard and fast.
Walker cleared his throat behind them. “I’ll give you two a minute,” he muttered and slipped out the door.
Once alone, Owen broke the kiss, but his arms stayed around her, holding her with careful pressure that respected her healing ribs.
“I don’t trust him,” he murmured against her hair.
“Brandt or Goodwin?”
“Either. Both.” His chest expanded on a deep breath. “But I trust you. Just... keep your eyes open. And if anything feels wrong—anything at all—you hit that button and I’ll move the mountains to get to you if I have to.”
She absolutely believed he would and could rip the Bitterroots apart with his bare hands if necessary.
“I know. I’ll be careful.” She stood on her toes to kiss him. “Don’t worry too much while I’m gone, okay?”