Chapter Three
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Laney’s pulse thundered in her ears as she stared at the little pink clip. And her chest tightened until she could hardly draw breath.
“Take me home,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended.
She yanked out a glove from her coat pocket, and despite her trembling hands, she finally managed to get it on. She took an evidence bag from her other coat pocket, retrieved the clip, and dropped it inside the bag.
“Take me home,” she repeated, well aware that her voice was shaking just as much as the rest of her.
Harlan didn’t argue. They turned back the way they’d come, their steps quick and sure but still cautious, neither speaking as they reached his truck. He fired up the engine and pulled onto the road, the tires throwing gravel.
“What does all of this mean?” she murmured, fighting back the flood of emotions that were right at the surface.
“Not sure,” Harlan admitted.
Laney had to hand it to him. He didn’t launch into speculation.
Probably because there was nothing he could say that would help with the wave after wave of nerves that were coursing through her.
Nerves that made each moment feel like an eternity and each mile endless.
She desperately needed to see her little girl, and there was no substitute for that.
Trying to steady herself and losing that battle, she forced herself to look out the window.
The drive took them along the two-lane highway that stretched out from Redwater, past open pasture and weathered fences.
Her home sat five miles outside of town, a wide-sprawling ranch that had been in her family for generations.
Rolling acres framed the long drive, the land dotted with oak and mesquite. The big, rambling house rose up from the center of it all, its white clapboard siding and deep porch a familiar silhouette against the sky.
Her father had passed away just months after Evie was born, and Laney had moved back in with her mother to help keep the place running. Even in the darkest moments, the ranch had been steady ground. Today, though, the sight of it didn’t bring comfort. It only deepened the knot in her gut.
Harlan eased the truck to a stop near the porch. “Go check on your mom and Evie,” he insisted, his eyes scanning the property. “I’ll call someone to come and pick up that bag with the clip, and I’ll walk the perimeter to make sure… all is well.”
Laney nodded once, already moving. Tucking the evidence bag back in her pocket, she took the porch steps two at a time, relieved to find the front door locked even though it slowed her down from getting inside.
The key turned smoothly in the lock, and she slipped inside, closing it quickly behind her.
Without slowing down, she hurried through the front parlor, past the narrow hallway that branched into sitting rooms and bedrooms, heading toward the back of the house. The large kitchen opened up before her, sunlight spilling through lace curtains over the sink.
Her breath left her in a rush when she saw them.
Carol stood at the counter, a mixing bowl in front of her, and Evie was perched on a stool beside her, grinning through a face dusted with flour.
Chocolate chips littered the counter, and her daughter’s small hand was busy sneaking more into her mouth.
“Mommy! We’re making cookies!” Evie announced, her voice bubbling with excitement and an obvious sugar high.
Relief washed over Laney so hard her knees nearly gave way.
Carol’s gaze sharpened the second she really looked at Laney. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice low but carrying a weight that said she already suspected it was bad.
Laney forced a small smile for Evie’s sake and then leaned closer to her mother. “I’ll fill you in later,” she murmured. “There was a bomb near the culvert.”
Carol’s eyes widened instantly, the alarm sparking there unmistakable. Before Laney could say more, movement caught her mother’s attention through the window over the sink. Carol’s head turned, tracking the figure outside.
“It’s Harlan,” Laney said quickly. “He’s checking the grounds.”
That did nothing to ease the tension in her mother’s expression. Carol’s shoulders squared slightly, and Laney could see in her eyes that she understood exactly what that meant. There was a threat, and they both knew it.
Laney kept her voice casual for Evie’s sake. “Sweetheart, where’s your pink hair clip?”
Evie’s brow furrowed. “I can’t find it.”
“Do you remember where you last saw it or the last time you wore it?” Laney pressed.
The little girl shrugged, her lips pursing as she thought. “I don’t know,” she admitted, and she then bolted for the hallway. “I’ll look in my room for it.”
The quick patter of her feet on the hardwood faded, giving Laney the moment she needed. She turned back to her mother, keeping her voice low. “Harlan and I found the hair clip, it was outside, in the dirt. Up the trail from the culvert.”
Carol’s eyes darkened, her jaw tightening. “You’re sure it’s Evie’s?”
Laney nodded once. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I need you to understand that something is wrong. So you’ll be ready.”
She quickly laid out the events of the morning from the moment she and Harlan had found the bomb to the photographer vanishing into the woods. With each word, Laney watched as her mother’s cop instincts clicked into place.
Carol’s gaze shifted back to the window where Harlan was making his way along the fence line. Her expression was thoughtful, almost guarded.
“Harlan meant it, you know,” Carol said, her voice barely above a whisper. “That promise he made to David to keep you both safe. Harlan will keep it.”
Laney’s throat tightened. She remembered that promise too well, along with the grief and the way Harlan had stood with them first at the hospital and then at the graveside. Like a silent sentinel.
“I know,” Laney managed, her voice steady despite the knot in her chest. “And I know he’s going to insist on carrying through on it no matter what the consequences. And right now, I’m not going to turn down his help. If my daughter is in danger, I want every ounce of backup I can get.”
Carol hesitated, her brows drawing together. “Are you going to be all right with him being around?”
Laney knew exactly what she meant. She didn’t need to ask for clarification. Images flashed through her mind before she could stop them—Harlan leaving her, breaking her heart.
No, not just breaking it. Crushing it.
Of course, Harlan had never known the depth of her feelings.
How could he? She had buried them so deep that even she had tried to forget.
But they had been real, strong enough to make her turn to David when Harlan was gone.
That relationship had started as a rebound and grown into something far more complicated.
She pushed all of it aside, locking those memories away where they belonged, when movement at the back door caught her eye. Harlan stood there, framed by the glass.
He knocked, and when her mother unlocked the door and opened it, he stepped inside. He brushed a bit of dust from his sleeve as he greeted Carol with a nod. “Ma’am.”
His gaze swept the kitchen, lingering for a moment on the mixing bowls and scattered chocolate chips before shifting toward the rest of the house. When he didn’t spot Evie, his eyes narrowed slightly.
“Where is Evie?” he asked.
“In her room,” Laney answered. “She’s looking for the hair clip.” She hesitated, then added, “It’s possible the one we found was a duplicate. Something meant to scare me.” Her voice dropped a fraction. “If that was the intent, it worked.”
Harlan’s expression hardened. “There are faint boot prints in the dirt along the side yard,” he let them know. “Either of you make those?”
“No,” Carol and Laney said in unison, and that seemed to be the answer Harlan had expected.
“The tracks lead toward the back pasture fence,” he went on. “Whoever it was had a clear line of sight to the porch and the living room windows.”
A cold shiver slid through Laney’s chest, tightening her breath.
Oh, God. That meant someone had been standing out there, watching them, watching her little girl.
The thought made her stomach knot. Who was doing this, and why?
She didn’t have an answer, but right now she needed to see Evie with her own eyes, just to assure herself that her little girl was safe.
Without a word, Laney turned and hurried toward the hallway. Harlan fell into step beside her, his stride steady, sure, and just as urgent as hers. Together, they headed for Evie’s bedroom.
The hallway to Evie’s room was narrow, the hardwood floor softened by a faded runner that had been there for as long as Laney could remember.
Old family photos lined the walls, framed moments from generations past—sepia portraits of stern-faced ancestors, candid shots of her parents in their younger days, and pictures of Laney as a little girl with scraped knees and a gap-toothed smile.
Evie’s bedroom sat across from Laney’s at the end of the hall.
The door was wide open, a bright spill of light stretching across the floorboards.
Inside, Evie sat cross-legged on the rug, her dolls spread out around her in a half-finished tea party.
Whatever concern she’d had about the missing hair clip was gone, replaced by giggles as she poured pretend tea into tiny cups.
Evie’s face lit up when she saw Harlan. “Uncle Harley!” she squealed, dropping a doll and racing across the room straight toward him.
Harlan crouched and caught her, scooping her up in his arms like he’d done countless times before. She wrapped her arms around his neck, planting a quick kiss on his cheek.
“You can have some tea,” she told him seriously, “and then we can get real cookies when we’re done.”
Laney was grateful for the moment. Evie’s bright eyes and easy smile meant she hadn’t picked up on the tension coiled tight in her mother’s chest.
Something on the windowsill caught Laney’s attention. She stepped past the tea set and dolls, her stomach knotting even more than it already was. The window was open just enough for a sliver of morning air to slip inside. Lying there, half-tucked against the frame, was a folded piece of paper.
Her fingers shook as she picked it up. She unfolded it and read the short, neat line. Thank you, Evie, for lending me your pretty pink hair clip.
Oh, God.
Laney’s pulse went into a gallop as the truth settled cold in her bones. Someone had been inside her house.
Someone had been in her daughter’s room.
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