Chapter Eighteen
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The smell of burned fuel still hung in the air, smoke drifting over the wrecked stretch of road. Harlan stood near the culvert, his Glock lowered at his side, and he let out a breath that he had been holding since the first explosion.
Laney was beside him, her hair tangled, her face streaked with soot, but she was alive. The relief of that alone nearly brought him to his knees.
Sheriff Barnes was on scene now, barking out orders while deputies and Crossfire Ops operatives moved through the rubble.
Because both sides of the road were gone, responders had been forced to park farther out and hike in, lugging gear and medical supplies across uneven ground.
It made everything slower, more chaotic, but they were here, and that mattered.
Harlan let himself take in the scene piece by piece.
Billy was down for good, sprawled on the ground where he had fallen.
Sherry was being tended to by Beck Culver, Crossfire Ops’ combat medic, who had jogged in ahead of the rest of the team.
Other deputies secured the area, their radios crackling with clipped voices. It was a mess, but it was over.
Well, almost.
This hellish nightmare would no doubt stay with them for a long time.
He looked at Laney again. She was checking her phone, no doubt making sure Evie was safe back at the ranch.
The worry lines still creased her face, but she caught his gaze and managed a faint, trembling smile. He could live with the wreckage, the noise, the endless smoke in his lungs. What he couldn’t have lived with was losing her.
For now, she was safe. And that was enough.
Laney’s voice pulled him back from the chaos around them. “Evie and Mom are fine,” she said, her tone soft but weighted with relief. “Garrett and Cal are still with them.”
Harlan closed his eyes for a moment, letting that sink in. Later, he would thank his fellow operatives for holding the line and protecting Laney’s family. For now, he thanked his lucky stars that Evie had been nowhere near this hell of fire, smoke, and shattered asphalt.
Movement drew his attention, yanking him out of his thoughts once again.
Beck Culver stepped back from where Sherry lay propped against a deputy’s jacket.
EMTs moved in with their packs, their boots crunching over broken gravel.
Beck turned to Harlan and Laney, his face streaked with sweat and soot but steady.
“I’ve stabilized her as much as I can,” Beck reported. “The injuries aren’t life-threatening, and I have no doubts that she’ll pull through.”
Harlan gave a tight nod, his jaw clenched.
He wasn’t sure whether that was good news or not.
Sherry Dalton was alive, but she was tangled in this mess deeper than anyone had realized.
Answers would have to come later. For now, he let the tension ease from his shoulders just enough to know he could breathe again.
Laney slipped closer to Harlan, her hand brushing his arm. Her touch grounded him in the wreckage, reminding him of the only thing that mattered right now. She was safe. Evie was safe. And that, more than anything else, was worth every fight he had left in him.
The EMTs worked quickly, strapping Sherry to the gurney and checking her vitals. She winced and moaned in pain when they lifted her, but her gaze stayed fixed on Laney.
“I loved David,” Sherry rasped, her voice hoarse but clear enough to carry over the noise of deputies and first responders. “But there was no affair. He never wanted me. He told me he wouldn’t cheat on his wife. He made that clear.”
Laney stiffened beside Harlan, her eyes narrowing, but Sherry kept talking.
“He wasn’t dirty. It was me. I was selling guns and drugs out of lockup. David found out. He told me to turn myself in or he would. I was going to, but then… then he was killed. So I kept quiet.”
Her words hung heavy in the smoke-laced air. The EMTs rolled the gurney toward the waiting medics, and Sherry closed her eyes, drained from the confession.
Harlan watched her go, the sour taste of truth settling on his tongue. She had admitted enough to damn herself, though not to David’s murder. That part still belonged to Billy. But there would be charges waiting the moment she was cleared by the doctors.
Laney drew a slow, uneven breath. Harlan touched her arm, steadying her even as he steadied himself. One more piece of the puzzle was in place, but it felt more like ashes than victory.
The sheriff’s boots crunched over loose gravel as he walked closer and stopped in front of them. His face was set in grim lines, though Harlan could tell by the way his eyes softened that Barnes had taken stock of them both and was glad they were still standing.
“They’re bringing you another vehicle,” Barnes said, his tone steady despite the chaos around them. “Noah sent it up the road. You’ll need to circle wide, stay away from this mess. Debris hasn’t been cleared, and some of it may still be live.”
Harlan gave a weary nod. His heart was still pounding, but relief was threading its way through the adrenaline. Laney was safe. She was here, alive, after grenades had rained down on them like they were in the middle of a war zone. He kept glancing at her, unable to stop himself from checking.
“Billy obviously faked his injuries,” Barnes continued. “He played everyone. Gave himself a window to vanish, lie in wait, and try to finish what he started.”
The words landed like a weight in Harlan’s chest. He had suspected as much, but hearing it out loud twisted the knife. The bastard had staged the whole thing. He had set the trap that nearly cost Laney her life.
Harlan’s grip tightened on his Glock as if part of him still expected Billy to rise up from the dirt again. Not this time. Billy was gone, and the nightmare was finally over.
“Good riddance,” Harlan muttered under his breath, his gaze going to Laney.
She was still pale, shaken, but strong. Always strong. And that, more than anything, let the relief finally settle into his bones.
Harlan dipped his chin toward Barnes. “We’ll head into the station later and give our statements. Right now we need to get back to the ranch so we can check on Evie and Carol.”
The sheriff studied them both, then gave a single, understanding nod. “I figured as much, and tomorrow’s good. You two get moving. Obviously, you’ll have to take the long road back home,” Barnes added.
That suited Harlan just fine. He didn’t care if the drive took twice as long, didn’t care if it was miles of detours and backroads. All that mattered was getting Laney out of the smoking ruin behind them.
He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. The warmth of her skin against his palm grounded him in a way nothing else could. He had stared down fire, smoke, and flying shrapnel today, but nothing had rattled him like the thought of losing her.
They started in the direction of the waiting vehicle. Step by step, away from the wreckage, away from Billy’s madness. Each yard they put between themselves and that culvert lightened something heavy in his chest.
He would still need to face Sheriff Barnes, sit down, and recount every detail. But not yet. First came Evie. First came the family who had been caught in the crossfire of a grudge that should have died years ago.
Harlan walked with Laney along the jagged stretch of broken asphalt, the two of them keeping close as they skirted what used to be the road.
The air still carried the acrid tang of burned fuel and explosives.
Ahead, the new SUV waited, its sleek lines standing in stark contrast to the chaos behind them.
Around them, vehicles crowded every available patch of ground. Sheriff’s cruisers, the Crossfire Ops trucks, the white van for CSI, and the bomb squad’s hulking rig. Flashing lights pulsed against the smoke, an eerie reminder of how close this had come to ending differently.
At the SUV, Harlan opened the passenger door for her before circling to his side. When the doors shut, sealing them inside, the world outside seemed to fall away for a moment. Both of them sat, breathing in silence, trying to let their bodies catch up to what their minds had just survived.
Laney finally broke the quiet. Her voice was soft, but it trembled with the weight of the truth. “My heart nearly stopped when Billy started shooting at you.”
Harlan turned to her, his chest tightening at the memory of her eyes wide with fear. “My heart did some stopping, too,” he admitted, his voice low and raw. He reached across the space between them and pulled her into his arms.
She fit against him with the familiarity of someone who belonged there, her pulse racing beneath his touch.
He pressed his face into her hair and held her close, steadying both of them.
For now, in this small cocoon of quiet, nothing else mattered but the fact that she was alive and safe in his arms.
Harlan kept his arms around her, his chin brushing the top of her head as the silence stretched between them. The lights from the cruisers outside pulsed across the windshield, throwing shadows over her face.
He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Now that you know the truth about David,” he said quietly, “about who killed him, that he wasn’t dirty, and that he didn’t have an affair… does that make it easier for you?”
Laney lifted her head slightly, her eyes searching his. She stayed quiet for a long beat, thinking. He could see it in the crease of her brow, in the way she worried her bottom lip.
“Yes,” she finally answered. “It feels like closure. Something I’ve been fighting to get for four years. It feels like justice for David.”
Her voice broke on his name, but this time there was no bitterness. No jagged edge of betrayal. Only grief, tempered by truth.
Harlan smoothed a hand down her back, relief threading through him. “Justice,” he repeated, letting the word settle between them.