Chapter Nine
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Laney’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The note. The pictures. Especially the last one. She could still see Evie’s small face in that photograph, peaceful in sleep, while danger lurked just outside the window.
Harlan’s steady hand closed around her arm. “Come on.” His voice was calm, firm, the voice of someone who knew she needed direction when her thoughts were spinning. He guided her into the living room and eased her down onto the sofa.
Garrett lingered near the front door, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. “Do you want Noah and the sheriff to know about the pictures and the threat?”
“Yes,” Laney said without hesitation. “They need to know everything.”
Garrett gave a short nod and stepped outside with his phone, leaving her alone with Harlan.
Laney pressed her palms together in her lap, trying to slow her racing heart and out-of-control breath.
Fear knotted her stomach, sharp and heavy, and it kept getting worse, no matter how she tried to push it down.
She’d been afraid before, but this was different.
This was Evie. And while she’d known about the note someone had left on the windowsill, the photo felt like a punch from a heavyweight’s fist.
Her little girl had been in danger without her even realizing it.
Harlan lowered himself onto the sofa beside her, close enough that his mere presence wrapped around her like a shield. She clung to that, trying to breathe past the rising tide of panic.
“Which one of our suspects best fits this latest threat?” he asked, his voice cutting through the haze in her mind. “Which one believed David destroyed their life?”
The question steadied her somewhat. It forced her to think, not just to feel. She drew in a slow breath and gripped the edge of the sofa.
“Billy fits,” she said finally after she gave it some thought. “After David arrested him, his wife left him, and his family disowned him. He blames everything on that. He blames David for ruining his life.”
She lifted her gaze to Harlan’s, needing him to understand she wasn’t clinging to just one theory. “But it could be Brannigan, too,” she admitted. “His business went under after David shut down his blasting operation. He has just as much reason to say David destroyed him.”
Her stomach knotted even tighter, something she hadn’t thought possible. “And of the three suspects, Brannigan is the one with explosives experience. He’d know how to build that bomb. He’d know how to set a trap like this.”
Harlan’s eyes stayed on her. “What about Sherry?”
Laney’s chest tightened. She wanted to dismiss it outright, but she forced herself to face the possibility. “It could fit,” she said quietly. “Maybe if they did have an affair and he dumped her…” Her throat went dry and she shook her head. “It hurts just thinking it. But David wasn’t a saint.”
The admission scraped raw inside her, but once it was out she couldn’t stop. “Even if there was no affair, there’s still that note. The payment. What if Sherry was a dirty cop and David found out? If he was going to expose her, she might have had him killed before he could.”
The words hung in the air like smoke. Saying them aloud felt like a betrayal, but not saying them would have been worse.
Having all of this out in the open pressed on her chest, but it also brought clarity.
This wasn’t just random. Someone believed they were carrying out justice for a life they thought David had ruined.
So, they had a motive. Possible means, too.
And since none of their suspects had alibis for the latest attack, they’d all had the opportunity.
Laney drew in a breath, steeling herself, and pushed to her feet. “We should see Sherry now and ask her about that note.”
Harlan rose with her, giving a sharp nod. “I’ll let Garrett know we’re leaving.” He stepped out of the room, leaving her with a moment of silence that felt heavier than it should.
Laney headed upstairs. Her hand lingered on the railing before she pushed forward and went to Evie’s temporary room and opened the door.
Relief loosened the knot in her chest when she saw her daughter still curled on her side, breathing softly in sleep.
She brushed a hand over the quilt and whispered a silent prayer, then turned to find her mother, not still napping but awake in the next room.
Carol looked up from her chair, concern etching her face. “Where are you going?”
“To see Sherry,” Laney said quietly. “Harlan’s coming with me.”
Carol rose and crossed the room, pulling her into a hug. “Be careful, sweetheart.”
Laney hesitated, then the words tumbled out before she could stop them. “Mom… did David have an affair?”
Her mother stilled, and for a long moment she didn’t answer. Finally, Carol’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know for certain, but I did hear some gossip.”
Laney nodded once, sharp and resolute. If it was true, she would deal with it later. She would face what it meant about her marriage, about the lies and the deceit that might have threaded through it. Later. Not now.
Now, the priority was Evie. Always Evie.
Laney turned from her mother and went to meet Harlan, her heart pounding with determination. She went back downstairs, her steps steady even though her nerves still rattled. Harlan was waiting at the bottom of the stairs with two vests in his arms, and Garrett was beside him.
Garrett gave her a nod. “I’ll lock up and keep watch while you’re gone. You don’t need to worry about this place. I’ve got it covered.”
“Thank you,” she said, knowing that words weren’t enough. She owed Garrett plenty for stepping up to take care of Evie and her mother.
Laney slipped on the vest Harlan held out for her.
The weight pressed down on her chest, a reminder of just how dangerous things had become.
And how necessary such measures now were.
While Harlan put on his own vest, she fastened the straps on hers, thanked Garrett again and heard Harlan do the same.
They stepped outside. The October air was cooler now, carrying the faint scent of leaves and autumn, a sharp contrast to the tension tightening in her chest. They climbed into the SUV with Harlan behind the wheel, her in the passenger seat.
Laney’s house slipped from view behind them as the vehicle rolled down the drive. Sherry’s place was close, only a quarter of a mile away, yet the short trip felt loaded, as if every second stretched longer with the questions that still needed answering.
Sherry’s house came into view as they turned off the road. The old farmhouse sat well back from the gravel drive, its gray paint faded and the porch crowded with mismatched chairs and empty flowerpots brittle from the October chill.
Two vehicles sat in the driveway. One was Sherry’s sedan. The other was a mud-splattered pickup that Laney didn’t recognize. Her pulse ticked higher. The front window stood open, lace curtain tugging in the breeze, and raised voices spilled out, sharp and angry.
“Billy is setting me up, and you know it,” Sherry shouted.
The words snapped off as if cut with a blade. A moment later Sherry glanced out at them, her gaze fixing on Laney and Harlan in the yard. Her expression shifted from fury to something tighter, guarded.
Once again, Laney felt the tension coil inside her. Whoever was inside with Sherry had just gone silent, and Harlan and she were about to step straight into the middle of it.
Sherry pushed open the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. Her smile was thin, forced, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Brannigan came out right behind her, hands shoved into his jeans pockets like he had all the time in the world. He gave them both a cocky grin.
“What are you two doing here?” Harlan’s voice was flat, cutting through the chilly air.
“Listening to a former cop whine about how unfair the system can be,” Brannigan said, his tone full of mockery.
“That’s not what happened,” Sherry shot back. She swung toward them, her voice sharp. “He just showed up here, uninvited, and started doing his own whining. He said Billy is setting both of us up.”
Laney kept her face still, but inside, the words churned. Someone was possibly trying to frame Billy.
But who?
Was it Sherry, scrambling to protect herself and using her old badge as cover? Or Brannigan, with his explosive temper and history of cutting corners? Or was Billy clever enough to have masterminded the whole thing, making himself look guilty as a kind of reverse psychology game?
The questions stacked in her mind like dominoes waiting to fall. Whoever was playing this game had nearly killed her and Harlan, and the answer had to be standing right in front of her.
Brannigan gave a rough laugh, clearly enjoying the way Sherry bristled beside him. Then he looked at Laney, his smirk widening.
“Guess your golden boy wasn’t so golden after all,” Brannigan spat out. “David got exactly what he deserved.”
The words hit like a slap. Laney’s breath caught, her chest tight as Brannigan took a step down off the porch. He paused, turning just enough to throw the final blow.
“Your husband was a dirty cop. Took payoffs. Everybody knew it,” Brannigan added.
Laney stiffened. She didn’t believe him, not for a second, but the barb lodged deep all the same. For just an instant, the whisper of doubt tried to push its way in, dragging with it all the unanswered questions about her husband’s death.
Harlan shifted closer to her, his silence deliberate, a steadying presence against the storm Brannigan had stirred. Without waiting for a reply, Brannigan swaggered down the steps, climbed into his truck, and drove away, gravel spitting under his tires.
Laney’s fists clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms. Brannigan’s poisoned words lingered in the air, heavy and sharp, threatening to unravel everything she thought she knew about her marriage.