Chapter Two #3
Smallwood stepped up to examine the camera. “Might have picked up activity before they smashed it. Do you get the feed on your phone?”
She shook her head. It was a small town. “It’s mostly a deterrent. I almost never check the footage. You can check it on the computer.” She waved a hand at the system on the far end of the counter, seemingly unharmed.
He nodded, moving toward it. “We’ll check the cameras up and down the block too.”
“Thanks.” She ran her tongue over her dry bottom lip.
Smallwood turned to her, pulling a notebook from his pocket. “Is there anyone who might hold a grudge against you?”
Her mind stumbled over the question. “No.”
“Any incidents with customers or neighbors?”
“No.”
“Anyone who’d want to scare you? A boyfriend who might be mad?”
She chewed her lip, thinking of the problem at the bar that night.
The older cop watched her face. “Anything you remember helps. Even if it seems insignificant.”
She stared beyond them at the scattered paperbacks, a cover featuring a couple kissing in the rain, unbothered by the mess.
“I don’t have a boyfriend. Not even an ex. But there was an incident at the Rusty Spur. We went for margaritas. A couple of guys,”—she cleared her throat—“were arguing about who I was dancing with. It got dumb. The Malone brothers stepped in.”
“The Malone brothers?” Smallwood’s pen scratched on the paper.
She nodded.
“When was this?”
“Three, maybe four months ago.”
Smallwood took down the note.
“You think either of those guys would come after you here?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t even bumped into them since.” The room was tilting around her, and she set a hand on the counter again, anchoring herself to the moment, the shop, the world.
The older guy finished his computer search. “Looks like the camera was smashed before it picked up anything.”
“Of course…” Her voice drifted off.
“We’ll swing by the Spur. Ask around. And we’ll check the alley cams. If this is the same group of young’uns hitting the ranches, we’ll have a bead on it soon.”
“Okay.”
The officers asked a few more questions and made a few more notes. When they were done, they left her with a card and a promise to call.
That was it. No answers. No help.
The door shut behind them, leaving Felicity in the wreckage.
She sucked in a deep breath. Where to start? What to do?
No answers came to mind. Only thing she knew for sure was she didn’t have it in her to pick up a single thing. Not a fallen book. Not the splintered frame with her first ever dollar bill still inside.
She walked to the back and closed the door. She couldn’t lock it now, but who cared? Her throat ached with all the emotions flooding in.
She climbed into her car and shut the door, sitting still in the small cocoon of silence. Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead to the steering wheel to the count of five, then straightened and pulled out her phone.
Honor answered on the second ring. “Hey, big sis. What’s up?”
“I’m on my way.” She didn’t know she made the decision until she spoke the words. “To the ranch.”
“You don’t sound right. What’s wrong?”
“The shop’s back door was open.” She stared at her hands on the wheel, her knuckles white in the morning light. “The place is torn up, Honor. They went through everything.”
“What!” Her sister’s hot gasp projected into her ear. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I arrived after they left. The cops think it’s teens. Said a rancher had a similar problem.”
“Oh god, Felicity. Come to the Black Heart.” She heard a rustle as if her sister was already rushing for the door, even though it would take her at least twenty minutes to get there.
“We need to talk to Carson.”
Carson Malone, Honor’s brother-in-law. The founder of Black Heart Security.
“Okay.” Her whisper sounded hollow, as if she was speaking into a void.
“Drive safe.”
“I will.” She ended the call and turned the key in the ignition. The alley slipped behind her, then Main Street, then the blinking light that told her she lived in a place too small for traffic but not for break-ins.
She barely remembered driving the road to the ranch until she arrived at the gates. She rolled down her window and punched in the code Honor gave her months ago. The metal gates began to swing inward with a low mechanical hum.
She drove through them, squinting at the sharp angle of the sun. She’d been here plenty of times to see her sister, but today every tree she passed made her feel like she was being watched.
When she parked near the house, she stayed behind the wheel for a bit, staring at the barn and the rustic lodge that housed the veterans. It all looked so peaceful it made her chest hurt.
The image of her ruined shop flickered behind her eyes, and she shoved the door open.
She didn’t take three steps before someone came into view.
A man rounded the corner of the barn, tall and built like he’d carried too many burdens for too long.
His stride was unhurried, shoulders broad beneath the dark flannel shirt he wore, and his jeans hugged his long, muscular legs.
Sunlight caught on the edge of his strong jaw, a little rough with stubble.
She’d seen him before, passing through the yard or loading hay on a flatbed. A veteran.
He looked at her, eyes shadowed by the ballcap he tugged low over his brow.
Felicity stood there, uncertain which way to go. Her chest ached with leftover panic and the weight of everything she’d seen that morning.
She turned in a slow circle, eyes searching for her sister, for anyone—and found him again.
Gabe was closer now, having crossed part of the yard without her noticing. The breeze carried the scent of pine and hay with him, clean and sharp.
“Hey.” His voice was low and gravelly, but warm like stone in the sun. “You looking for someone?”
Her throat worked before the words came out. “I’m here to see Carson. And my sister. Honor.”
He nodded once. “Probably in the house.”
“Thanks.” Her voice came thin, almost lost to the wind.
He just stood there—solid and quiet, steady in a way that made the ground feel less likely to drop out from under her.
For a moment she stared at the porch, not ready to climb the steps. Then she squared her shoulders and forced her feet forward, aware of him behind her—not following, just there.
And somehow, that was enough to keep her moving.