Chapter Eight #2
“We’ll go to her, but not before I check in with Garrett,” he said, making sure to keep his voice steady. Hard to do after that scalding kiss. “I want to be sure the house is locked down tight before we leave again.”
Laney nodded, though her fingers tightened on the phone she still had in a hard grip. “I don’t want Evie put at risk if it turns out that Sherry is behind this.”
“Neither do I,” Harlan said. His chest ached with the truth of it. “We’ll keep her safe. And then we’ll find out if Sherry is hiding anything.”
Laney’s eyes met his, haunted but resolute. She gave a small nod, and he knew she was ready to face whatever answers Sherry had to give.
“You know Sherry could try to kill us,” he reminded her.
He didn’t need to spell out the thought. From the look in Laney’s eyes, the possibility had already lodged itself deep inside her.
Laney gave a nod, her mouth settling into a tight line.
“The safe thing to do is vest up before we head out,” Harlan went on. “It’s only a short drive to her place, but after what happened on that road… we don’t take chances.”
“You’re right,” Laney agreed. Her voice wavered, then steadied. “We’ll do it.”
Harlan squeezed her shoulder once and then stepped back. “I’ll check with Garrett, make sure everything here’s covered.”
He turned toward the door, ready to head down the hall, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. The sharp alert tone sliced through the silence, and his gut clenched, because it was the sound of the motion sensors.
Someone was pulling in to the driveway.
Harlan yanked the phone free, his eyes narrowing on the screen. He watched as the sleek black sedan rolled up the long drive, sunlight flashing across the logo stenciled on its side. A courier service out of San Antonio.
Harlan shoved his phone into his pocket to free up his hands and hurried down the stairs where Garrett was already opening the door. And he’d already drawn his gun.
Drawing his own weapon, Harlan followed Garrett out onto the porch. Instinct made him sweep the yard first, eyes cutting across the tree line and the gravel drive. Too much had already gone wrong today for him to take any chances.
The young woman got out of the car, but she didn’t manage to make it a single step before Garrett’s sharp hand signal froze her in place. “Stay where you are,” he called out, his tone clipped, authority hard in it.
She flinched, wide-eyed. Both men were armed, standing squarely between her and the house. The woman looked genuinely scared. Looked. But that didn’t mean this wasn’t an act. And the start of another attack.
The courier’s fingers curled tight around the envelope she held, knuckles pale. “I… I’m with Silver Star Courier,” she stammered, her voice cracking. “My name’s Cassie Mendoza. I have a delivery for Deputy Laney Sutton.”
Harlan’s gut knotted. A package. Delivered here, now, after the shooting. His gaze cut to Garrett’s, both men sharing the same hard thought without saying it. A courier might just be doing her job. Or someone had just used her to deliver something a hell of a lot more dangerous.
“What’s going on?” Laney’s voice carried from the doorway, tight with worry.
Harlan held up a hand, signaling her to stay back. “Stay there. Make sure Evie is okay.”
Of course, that sent Laney running back upstairs, and while Harlan hadn’t wanted to alarm her unnecessarily, he didn’t want to take any chances. If this was the start of an attack, he wanted Laney with the little girl so she could protect her.
The courier’s hand trembled even more as she lifted a thick envelope for them to see. “I have this.”
“Put it back on the seat,” Garrett demanded. His tone stayed calm but commanding.
She did, swallowing hard. “Is there something wrong? Is there… something dangerous in it?”
“We’ll find out,” Garrett snarled. He turned to Harlan. “I’ll grab a scanner from my SUV.”
While Garrett jogged off, Harlan kept his eyes on the young woman and the envelope. “Who sent it?” he asked.
She fumbled with her phone, scrolling quickly. “Uh… the name’s, uh, Raymond Clark.” She glanced up, clearly sensing his skepticism. “That’s what it says, anyway.”
Harlan’s gut told him it was fake. “And how was the delivery arranged? Did this Clark come in person to set it up?”
“No, he didn’t. It was… odd,” Cassie admitted. “Mr. Clark emailed the documents to us. He instructed us to print them out and deliver them by hand. He paid through PayPal.” She shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not unusual for us to print things out, but this… I don’t know. It felt kinda weird.”
Harlan’s mind worked fast. Whoever had paid would have almost certainly closed that account by now, making it impossible to trace. A clean drop.
Garrett returned from his SUV carrying a handheld scanner. “I did a quick run on Cassie Mendoza,” he whispered to Harlan while he got to work right away, waving it over the envelope and checking the readouts. “There’s someone by that name that works for the courier.”
Harlan knew that didn’t mean this was actually the real Cassie Mendoza, but they could verify that later. For now, he wanted to keep his eye on her.
After a tense minute of the scanning, Garrett looked up. “No explosives. Just paper.”
The courier let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t even look at what was printed. I swear I have no idea what it is.”
Harlan didn’t relax one bit. Whoever wanted this delivered had gone to great lengths to make sure it landed in Laney’s hands. That alone made it dangerous.
“You can go,” Harlan told the woman, and he and Garrett headed back inside.
Once they were in, Harlan shut the door hard behind them and slid the deadbolt, his hand still tense from gripping the envelope. Garrett stayed close, watchful, his eyes tracking the windows like he expected someone to already be looking in.
Laney came down the stairs, her voice quiet but steady. “Evie’s still napping.”
Harlan’s jaw flexed, and he held out the envelope. “Not sure what it is, but Garrett scanned it. No explosives.”
Laney took it with hands that trembled just a little and then tore the seal. She pulled out a stack of glossy photographs, and the color instantly drained from her face.
Harlan stepped in close so he could see what had rattled her.
The first images were of them near the culvert, crouched in the dirt, the bomb not yet discovered but visible in the background.
Another shot showed Laney leaning against his truck, talking with him, unaware of the camera.
Each image screamed surveillance. Every angle told him the shooter had been far too close.
Then Laney froze. She made a sound that was half gasp, half choke. The photo in her hands showed Evie.
The little girl was curled under her blanket in the bed downstairs, her hair spread across the pillow. It was obvious the picture had been taken through the window glass, but the person who’d taken it had been only feet away from Evie, watching her sleep.
Watching her while she was completely vulnerable.
Laney’s hand shook, and the picture slipped out of her grip, fluttering to the floor.
“Son of a bitch,” Garrett muttered, his face pale but his voice sharp. “They were right outside. They could have taken her. They could have—” He cut himself off, fury tightening every line of his body.
Harlan bent and scooped up the photo before Laney could. His stomach twisted, his pulse hammering with a mix of rage and terror. He had been seconds away from losing Laney at the culvert and in that attack, and now this. Whoever was behind this wanted Laney and Evie broken, maybe dead.
“There’s more,” Laney whispered, pulling out a single sheet of paper from the envelope.
Her lips parted as she read, her eyes wide, and she handed it to him without speaking.
Harlan stared down at the words scrawled across the page.
David tried to destroy me. Now I’m going to destroy what’s his.
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