Chapter Ten
───── ? ────
Harlan sat in the chair opposite Laney’s desk, the glow from her monitor painting her face in pale light. She was leaning forward, eyes fixed on the screen, as the recording of Billy’s interview played back. His voice filled the room, dripping smugness with every word.
Billy was sticking to his story, hammering it in like a man too sure of himself. According to him, he’d been framed. Every answer carried the same tune, as if repeating it enough would make it true.
Harlan didn’t buy it, and judging by the tightness in Laney’s jaw, neither did she.
Garrett leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze flicking from them to the hall. He was listening to Billy’s voice, too, but Harlan knew his mind was also on running a perimeter check, noting every sound, every shadow.
From farther down the hall came Evie’s giggles, light and sweet. Carol was bathing her, and the sound should have eased Harlan. Instead, it twisted the tightness in his chest. So did the weight of that message, especially now that darkness pressed against the windows.
All the locks, all the cameras, all the men with guns… none of it will stop what’s coming. You’ll pay for what David did.
Yeah, that was a heavy weight all right. And along with Laney, Garrett and Carol were feeling it, too. That was why they needed answers, and they needed them fast.
With that reminder pressing down on him, Harlan kept his eyes on the recording of Billy, but his hand stayed settled on the grip of his holster. If someone out there was planning to test those words tonight, he was damn sure ready to respond.
The recording ended with the sharp voice of Billy’s lawyer demanding his client’s release. Harlan didn’t need to hear the rest to know how it had played out. The sheriff’s hands had been tied.
Billy had walked free.
Harlan’s mind replayed the sheriff’s reasoning for letting the man go.
Billy’s DNA on the hair clip wasn’t enough.
There was no proof he had set foot inside Laney’s house.
No proof he had ever touched the clip. DNA could travel by indirect contact, a handshake, a borrowed pen.
Or it could have been planted, though Harlan didn’t like the implications of that either.
Still, something about it gnawed at him. Billy was many things, but careless wasn’t usually one of them. To leave a clip carrying his DNA behind when he knew a client had called him into the area? That felt wrong. Too neat.
Too planted.
That last thought burned through Harlan. Because for all of Billy’s bitterness, for all his rage at what David had done to him, the so-called evidence still felt wrong.
Billy was a survivor. A man who had already been caged once. He wouldn’t be careless enough to leave a trail of himself behind, not when he’d been summoned here by a supposed client. It just didn’t add up.
And in Harlan’s world, when something didn’t add up, it meant there was a bigger game in play.
But what game?
And who the hell was playing it?
The recording clicked off, leaving only the hum of the computer and the faint splashing of water from down the hall where Evie was finishing her bath. Harlan leaned back in his chair, his jaw tight.
Across from him, Laney pressed her palms flat on the desk, her frustration plain. Garrett was still in the doorway, and Harlan caught the look in his eyes. Same as his own. Same as Laney’s. None of them believed Billy would be giving them answers to this.
Even if Billy knew the truth.
And Billy especially wouldn’t if he truly was the one trying to kill them, the one who’d murdered David.
“Do you want to listen to Brannigan’s interview?” Laney asked, finally breaking the silence.
Harlan shook his head. Garrett did the same.
“We already know the summary,” Harlan said. “Denials. Nothing to hold him.”
Which left them here, in the middle of the storm, with two suspects free to move as they pleased and no proof to tie either of them to the threats.
The other suspect, Sherry, wasn’t even on the sheriff’s radar.
Yet. That might change once the sheriff interviewed her, but for now Sherry was as free as Billy and Brannigan were.
Harlan stared at the dark window beyond Laney’s desk, every muscle wired tight. Whoever was behind this wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.
Laney let out a long sigh, the kind that carried more weariness than breath. “Sherry’s coming in tomorrow. The sheriff’s going to do the interview. She’s still pissed, though. Maybe that’ll push her to slip, admit to something. Especially if she really was taking some kind of payoff.”
Harlan stayed quiet, watching the way her fingers tapped the desk. He didn’t disagree. Anger could rattle a person enough to loosen their tongue. But it could also light a fuse.
“Or it pushes her to do something reckless,” he said finally. The thought sat heavy in his gut. Sherry wasn’t the type to back down when she felt cornered, and now she was.
Garrett shifted against the doorframe. He didn’t need to say it, but Harlan knew they were thinking the same thing. Pissed people were unpredictable.
“That’s why you’re staying the night,” Harlan told him. “All the security’s in place, but I want more eyes on the house.”
Garrett nodded once, steady and sure. “I’ll be here for as long as you need me.”
Harlan muttered a thanks and glanced toward the dark window again. Cameras, locks, alarms—they were just tools. Whoever had sent that note believed they could get around all of it. And if they were right, tonight could turn bloody fast.
The creak of footsteps in the hall made Harlan turn. Evie came running in, a blur of soft cotton pajamas and wild excitement. Her hair was damp from her bath, sticking in little curls to her forehead, and she grinned like it was Christmas morning.
“I get the tent room again!” she announced, bouncing on her toes. “Are you sleeping in there, too?”
Laney’s tired smile softened as she nodded. “Yes, baby, we are.”
Evie’s eyes shifted to Harlan, bright with hope. He gave her a solemn nod, as if agreeing to a mission. “I’ll be there.”
That seemed to satisfy her, but then she turned to Garrett in the doorway. “What about you?”
Garrett crouched down, bringing himself to her level. “I’ll be right in the room next to yours. But we can send secret messages.” He rapped his knuckles lightly against the doorframe to demonstrate. “One tap means goodnight. Two taps means sleep tight.”
Evie gasped in delight. “Like a game?”
“Exactly like a game,” Garrett confirmed.
She tilted her head, studying him with that quick, earnest curiosity kids had. “Then… can you be Uncle Garrett, too?”
Harlan caught the flicker of surprise across Garrett’s face. The man hesitated only a heartbeat before his expression softened. “Sure, squirt. Uncle Garrett it is.”
Evie clapped, clearly pleased with herself, before darting off to ready her sleeping bag.
Harlan leaned back in his chair, watching her go, and for a fleeting second the house felt normal. Almost safe. But he knew better.
The thought had crossed his mind more than once to move Laney, Evie, and Carol to a safehouse.
Somewhere out of sight, out of reach. But he’d pushed the idea back.
Uprooting Evie again would only add to the fear already hanging over her, and Carol would feel displaced, too.
No, they were better off here, where the security was tight and familiar walls could lend some comfort.
“I’ll grab my go-bag from the SUV,” Garrett said. He was already shifting into the mode of a man settling in for a watch. “I’ll make sure everything is set on the new security system, and then I’ll head to the guest room. Just in case Evie decides to test out the tapping game.”
Harlan gave him a nod, appreciating the steadiness Garrett brought to the table.
Garrett’s gaze moved between him and Laney. “You two should get some rest, too.”
Laney lifted her chin, her voice calm but firm. “We will. I just want to check if there are any updates first.”
“Fair enough.” Garrett pulled the door shut behind him, the soft click sounding louder than it should in the quiet of the house.
The room dimmed again with his absence, leaving Harlan alone with Laney and the ever-present weight of what still loomed outside.
There were no real updates waiting, nothing that eased the tightness in his chest. Only an email from the sheriff. The message was short, blunt. Tomorrow he planned to ask Sherry outright about an affair with David.
The second Laney read it, Harlan saw her shoulders stiffen. Saw the way her jaw tightened before she turned her face away. He cursed silently, wishing he could take the sting out of it for her.
“It might not have even happened,” he said, keeping his voice low. “People talk. People lie. You can’t let a possible lie sink claws into you.”
She made a sound of agreement, though it was faint, and she rose from her chair. The restless energy had her pacing across the office, arms folded tight as if to hold herself together. Harlan stood too, not willing to let her carry the weight alone.
After several minutes of the agitated pacing, she finally stopped and spoke, her voice softer now, almost weary. “The last thing David said to me was to move on with my life after he was gone.”
Yeah, Harlan remembered that. Remembered the way David had looked at him, remembered the words. Right after David had made him promise to keep them safe.
He watched Laney, the grief and frustration running beneath her steady mask, and the worry gnawed at him. What if she could never move on? What if those last words chained her to a ghost she would never be free of?
And what if the bastard out there knew that, and was using it to tear her apart?
He had been bracing for more pacing, for more anger or tears. What he sure as heck hadn’t expected was for her to turn to him with a sudden fierceness in her eyes.
“This is me moving on,” she muttered.
Before he could breathe or manage any kind of a reply, she kissed him.
Not the hesitant brush of lips they had shared before. This was deeper, hungrier, her fingers curling into the front of his shirt as if she needed the anchor. The press of her body and the raw edge in the kiss jolted through him, straight to a place he had tried to keep locked down.
For a moment, any and all sensible thought slipped away. There was only the heat of her mouth, the desperation in the way she kissed him, and the knowledge that she was giving him a piece of herself that no one else had been allowed to touch.
And heaven help him, he wanted more.
Her kiss scorched away the last of his restraint. He slid a hand up her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. The taste of her, the tremor in her breath, told him this was not just need. This was release. Maybe even surrender.
Harlan angled his head, deepening the kiss, and she let out a sound that shot straight through him. He had promised himself he would protect her, nothing more. But in this moment, holding her, he couldn’t separate the vow from the truth. He wanted her. He had always wanted her.
His palm cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing her cheek as if to ground them both. Her lips softened under his, then pressed harder, hungrier, like she was staking her claim. His heart hammered, not with fear, but with something far more dangerous.
She broke the kiss only long enough to whisper his name, then pressed back into him. He rested his forehead against hers, fighting to catch his breath, but not letting go. Not willing to.
The sharp chime of an incoming text cut through the silence.
They froze, still pressed close, lips lingering until the sound forced them apart.
Her breath brushed his cheek, his pulse still hammering, but in both their eyes was the same realization.
This thing between them, these feelings taking root, could be dangerous.
It made them vulnerable. It blurred the sharp edge of focus they both needed to survive.
Laney drew back, her gaze steady even as her lips were still swollen from the kiss. Neither spoke as Harlan pulled his phone from his pocket.
The message was from Noah.
Harlan’s eyes narrowed as he read it. Found a receipt. Local supplier. Last week Brannigan purchased components that are commonly used for homemade explosives.
The words tightened every single muscle in his body. Cursing under his breath, he passed the screen to Laney, watching her lips part as she scanned the message.
Last week. That was plenty of time for him to have made that IED and planted it by the culvert. If it was true, if he had indeed done that, Brannigan wasn’t just holding a grudge. He was preparing for war.
Harlan pocketed the phone, his jaw set. The kiss, the heat of her still lingering against him, would have to wait. Because the threat outside these walls had just sharpened its blade.
Laney’s fingers tightened around the phone after she read Noah’s text. “If Brannigan bought those components, it means he could have made the bombs,” she said, her voice low and unsteady. “It doesn’t prove he did, but it proves he had the means.”
Harlan nodded. “It’s enough for the sheriff to haul him back in. At least for questioning.” He took the phone from her, thumbed out a quick forward of Noah’s message, and sent it to the sheriff.
The reply came almost instantly. I’ll get Brannigan in again first thing in the morning.
Harlan blew out a long breath, though the tension in his chest didn’t ease. “Finally, something solid tying him to this,” he muttered.
Laney leaned back against the desk, arms crossed, but there was no relief in her expression. “It still won’t be enough to hold him if he has an explanation,” she said. “And men like Brannigan always have an explanation.”
Harlan agreed. He could already hear it. Some line about needing the components for his business, for a side job, for something that would sound just plausible enough to a judge. Evidence was finally pointing in Brannigan’s direction, but it was thin, fragile. Like smoke.
And in Harlan’s gut, smoke meant fire close by.
Hell, he could say the same thing for Laney and him. Things were heating up, and it didn’t seem stoppable.
Harlan thought about bringing up the kiss, the way it had shifted something inside him, but before he could find the words, his phone buzzed. Shit. At first he figured it might be another update from the sheriff. Then he saw the alert flashing across the screen.
And his stomach dropped. One of the new perimeter sensors had just tripped.
Laney’s eyes lifted to his, her expression questioning. She had no idea yet what had set him on edge.
He turned the screen so she could see, his voice steady but low. “We have an intruder.”
───── ? ────