Chapter Four
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Harlan sat at the far end of the kitchen table, the chair angled just enough so the wide window behind Laney gave him a full view of the backyard. Beyond the glass, the fading light picked out the silver of the pasture fence and the darker line of trees beyond.
His gaze drifted there between bites of a chocolate chip cookie, tracking every flicker in the shadows. So far, the only movement had been from the pair of Palominos in the pasture, but with night closing in, it would be a good time for the intruder to try to make a return appearance.
Maybe not to just leave a note or take a picture or two this time.
And that was the reason Harlan was right here, ready for any shit this SOB might try to dole out.
To his right, Carol refilled Evie’s milk, the girl chattering about sleeping under a tent in the upstairs bedroom.
Laney brushed crumbs from the table, her eyes lifting to the window now and then, same as his.
The scent of the cookies hung in the air, but Harlan kept one hand on his mug and the other free, ready to push back his chair if something shifted outside.
Evie’s heels drummed lightly against the chair rung, and she tilted her head back to beam at him, chocolate glinting at the corner of her smile.
“I saved you a spot in the tent, Uncle Harley,” she said, voice bubbling with the kind of excitement that left no room for worry.
But there was worry. Well, for everyone in the room except Evie. The little girl didn’t know that the camping adventure was a security measure, one that would get Evie off the ground floor and up the stairs where it would be harder for someone to try to get to her.
“You can even have the side by the window,” Evie added.
Harlan smiled back, but the picture in his head was not of a tent or a harmless indoor campout.
He saw her old bedroom downstairs, saw the note on the sill and the window open a fraction.
The CSIs had combed through that room for hours today, their quiet movements a constant reminder that someone had been there.
Close enough to touch her things. Close enough to take something.
Evie popped another chocolate chip into her mouth, still grinning. He kept his own expression easy, letting her think the tent sleepover was all a game, while his gaze drifted past her and right back to the darkening yard beyond the windows.
Carol pushed her chair away from the table, the legs scraping softly over the wood floor. She moved to the window, and her gaze also drifted into the yard before she turned to Evie with a brightness that sounded just a little too practiced.
“Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you upstairs. You can have a bath in my big tub with the bubbles and the jets.”
Evie’s eyes went wide. “Really?” She hopped down, grabbing Carol’s hand without a second thought.
Harlan watched them head toward the back stairs, and he knew it wasn’t just the jets Carol had in mind. She wanted Evie away from the window. So did he.
The moment the sound of their voices faded up the steps, Laney’s chair creaked as she leaned in closer to him. “Until this is over, we should eat in a different room. One with blinds or curtains.” Her eyes flicked to the wide panes along the kitchen wall. “These make us too easy to see.”
Harlan followed her look, his gaze settling on their reflections in the black window. He didn’t need convincing.
They got up from the table and worked in quiet rhythm, plates stacking, silverware clinking softly into the sink. Harlan had just rinsed the last dish when his phone buzzed.
It was from a fellow Crossfire operative. Garrett McCall. Not Garrett’s first text of the day either. He and Harlan had been messaging back and forth since this ordeal began early in the morning.
Harlan dried his hands and read the message.
The footprint, the bomb, the note from Evie’s room, and the hair clip were all still being analyzed at the county lab.
The new motion sensors had been installed along the road to Laney’s place.
If anyone set foot on the property, they would get an alert on their phones.
Tomorrow, more sensors would go in, along with a full security system.
He read it twice before sliding the phone back into his pocket.
Laney stepped beside him, drying a plate. “Update?”
“Garrett says the lab is still working on the test results. Sensors are up on the road. Tomorrow the rest of the system goes in.”
She set the plate in the cabinet. “Thank you. For all of it,” she murmured.
Harlan watched the tension still settled in her shoulders. “I’m staying here tonight.”
Laney’s eyes met his for a beat, and she didn’t argue.
“I also need to go through David’s file,” he added. “Everything. Anything that might connect to what’s happening now.”
She gave a short nod. “It’s all in my office.” Without a shred of hesitation, she started in that direction.
He followed her toward the backstairs, already turning over the possibilities in his head. David’s case had been cold for years, but cold didn’t mean dead. Not anymore. If they could link the current events to his death, then it might give them a new, much needed lead.
They climbed the old stairs, with each step creaking. That was a good sign as far as Harlan was concerned. No way for some asshole to sneak up on them without making a whole lot of noise. Noise that Harlan would hear since he didn’t plan on doing much sleeping tonight.
With Laney just ahead of him, they reached the landing, and the upper hall stretched out, lit by a single lamp on a side table. The air smelled faintly of furniture polish and lavender.
A few closed doors marked what he knew were the guest rooms, and further down, the door to Carol’s bedroom stood ajar. He could hear water running inside, along with Evie’s giggles.
Laney’s office was at the very end of the hall, and when they got to it, he stepped inside behind her, scanning the space out of habit. The room was neat, but lived in, with a desk against the far wall and shelves crowded with binders, stacked files, and a few framed photos.
One frame caught his attention immediately. It was Laney and David on their wedding day, standing under an arch of colorful flowers. She had been laughing, sunlight caught in her hair, while David grinned down at her as if she were the only thing in the world worth seeing.
Harlan remembered that day all too well. He’d stood off to the side, smiling and congratulating them like any best man should. Yeah, he’d been happy for them.
Happy enough anyway to plaster on the grin that he was sporting in the photo.
But inside, it had felt like something was crushing his chest. He had let Laney slip through his fingers, choosing the military and the uniform over her.
And he had lost her to the man who had been his best friend.
Laney reached up to one of the shelves, her fingers brushing over the spines of a few binders before she tugged free a heavy cardboard box. She set it on the desk with a solid thump.
“This is a copy of everything in David’s file,” she said. “I’ve got the digital versions too.”
That didn’t surprise Harlan. She was a cop through and through, and he knew it had to burn like acid to have her husband’s murder sitting there, unsolved, year after year.
While she straightened the box, she added, “I’m calling the sheriff in the morning. I’m asking for a leave of absence. I want to focus on solving this… whatever this is.”
Harlan watched the small tremor run through Laney’s fingers as she brushed off the top of the box.
The air between them was tight with unspoken things, heavy enough that he could almost taste the frustration, grief, and stubborn resolve coming off her.
This was costing her more than she would admit, but he needed her focused.
He leaned a little on the desk, letting his tone stay even. “Walk me through the suspects again.”
Her gaze flicked to him, sharp and questioning, but she didn’t argue.
He already knew the details—he, too, had been digging into the case for years—but hearing her go over them might shake something loose.
The more they said it aloud, the better chance they had of catching the thread that would lead them to whoever had killed David and was now playing this twisted game.
Laney slid a folder from the box and set it on the desk between them. The man staring back from the glossy print had a hard jaw, deep lines bracketing his mouth, and eyes that seemed to glare straight through the camera.
“Billy Maddox,” she said.
Of course, Harlan remembered the name and the file that went with it. Mid-thirties. Former oilfield worker. A man who had once made himself useful to the wrong kind of people, and he had the criminal record to prove it.
“David caught Billy moving stolen explosives,” Laney went on, her voice steady but with a thin thread of tension underneath.
“The explosives were traced to a storage yard that he had access to, and Billy’s DNA and prints were everywhere.
It was a slam dunk case, but Billy swore he’d make David pay for ruining his operation and sending him to prison.
” She paused a heartbeat. “Billy was out on bail when David was killed.”
Harlan studied the photo again, recalling some details about the man. “Last I heard, Billy was still in jail.”
Laney shook her head and slid the photo back into the file. “He got out two months ago.”
Which gave Billy the opportunity to set up what had been happening.
The motive was obvious. Payback. And as for means—Billy had the skill set to build what they had found this morning.
There it was. Means, motive, and opportunity, and while those three criminal aspects weren’t enough for a conviction, it certainly made Billy a top suspect.
Harlan didn’t have to ask if she thought Billy could have done it. He could see the answer in the set of her jaw.
He watched her continue to flip through the pages, her fingers steadying on the manila folder before she laid it open again on the desk.
Curtis Brannigan’s mugshot stared back at him, the lines in the man’s face as hard as the set of his jaw.
Late forties, ex-construction foreman, a short fuse that had gotten him in trouble more than once.
Harlan remembered the incident well enough. David had shut down the blasting project near protected land, writing a report that left Brannigan with nothing but a wrecked deal and a bad reputation.
“Motive’s there,” she said, her gaze flicking up briefly before she went back to the file. “Same as Billy, he had opportunity. But like Billy, the means is missing, and no hard evidence ever tied him to the bombing.”
Harlan leaned a little closer, scanning the photos and handwritten notes tucked inside.
He had chased these same leads and had come to the same dead ends as Laney and the rest of the cops.
But standing here, the weight of David’s case spread across the desk, he could feel the pressure mounting in Laney.
In himself, too.
He knew she would keep turning over stones until something crawled out. And he also knew that whatever was happening now, with bombs, notes, and hair clips, might be the break she had been chasing for four long years, even if it came at a dangerous cost.
Her daughter was now a target. Of what, they didn’t know. And the not knowing made it worse. Give him a head-on confrontation with an asshole any day rather than deal with all this taunting shit.
Harlan kept his focus on her, noting the tight line of her mouth as she spoke. “What are you thinking?” he came out and asked.
She dragged in a long breath. “I’m thinking that Redwater Sheriff’s Office doesn’t have the resources to investigate a cold case,” she spelled out. “That’s why I asked the Rangers to come in.”
He heard the frustration under her even tone. She had been carrying this for years, pushing against walls that would not move.
“Crossfire Ops has the resources,” he reminded her. “And this is now my top priority.” His voice was flat, certain, because there was no question in his mind.
Laney’s eyes softened just enough to let him know she heard him, and she gave a small nod. “Because you promised David that you’d watch out for Evie and me.”
Harlan held her gaze. She was right, but she was also wrong.
That promise had been part of it, sure. But he would have done this even without that vow he’d made to a dying friend.
He didn’t need a vow or a promise to drive him toward keeping her and Evie safe.
That need had been there long before David asked, rooted so deep it had never left.
Laney’s breath caught, the sound low and uneven, and before she could pull away, Harlan stepped in and wrapped his arms around her.
Her cheek pressed against his chest, and he felt the tremor that ran through her.
He held her tighter, steadying her while the faint scent of her shampoo rose with each breath she took.
Her warmth bled into him, and along with it came the unwanted pulse of heat that he’d spent years trying to shut down.
His hand slid in slow circles over her back, meant to soothe, but his body remembered too much.
The way she fit against him. The softness of her mouth the first time he’d kissed her.
Back then, she’d been his to hold. His to kiss. His to take to his bed.
Now, with her in his arms again, those memories pressed in hard. He kept his touch steady, fighting the urge to tilt her chin and taste her like he used to. Fighting the pull that had never really gone away.
Laney eased back, her shoulder brushing the edge of the box. It shifted, bumping into the wedding photo beside it. The frame tipped, landed face down on the desk with a muted clack.
Hell. The sight of it lying there hit like a gut punch, a hard reminder that David still stood between them.
Maybe always would.
Harlan pushed the heat back down, shoved the frustration deeper, and reached for distance that he didn’t want. It was a familiar pattern, one he’d been doing for years, and it was best to keep the pattern and barriers in place. Heat didn’t go well with focus.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, a welcome interruption, and he pulled it out, the glow of the screen lighting the shadows between them. Garrett’s name flashed at the top. A lab update. Harlan opened it, eyes skimming fast.
They’d found DNA on Evie’s hair clip. Not just Evie’s, Carol’s and Laney’s, as to be expected.
But someone else’s DNA.
And the lab had confirmed a match.
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