Chapter Twelve #2
And Brady didn’t look scared.
Brady gritted his teeth as the deputy cinched a bandage tight around his arm, blood still leaking through the edges. His jaw flexed with pain, or maybe just frustration, as he looked up at Gage and Rena.
“When I stepped outta my truck,” Brady explained, “some son of a bitch opened fire. Missed with the first shot, clipped me with the second.” He winced, sucking in a breath. “I got a look at him before he bolted. Name’s Dean Kellarman.”
Gage exchanged a quick glance with Rena. Dean Kellarman, that was one of the thugs who’d been on the initial suspect list. A petty mercenary with a reputation for working cheap and dirty.
So maybe it was another hired gun. Maybe Brady was telling the truth.
But Gage had learned a long time ago that “maybe” was a dangerous word.
He studied the man, his composed expression, the careful choice of words, the way he offered just enough detail to sound convincing but not enough to prove anything.
It didn’t sit right.
“I’ll let the sheriff know what happened,” Deputy Sanchez said, firing off a text.
Moments later, with her phone still in her hand, the sheriff came into the bullpen. She took one quick look at Brady’s arm before turning to the deputies.
“Pull the exterior feeds from every camera within two blocks,” she ordered. “And get a patrol unit to the scene. Shooter’s probably long gone, but I want tire tracks, shell casings, anything.”
The deputies hustled off to follow through.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” the sheriff said, turning back to Brady.
Brady nodded. “I parked across the street from the station. Got out, was locking the door when the first shot came in. Missed me by inches. I dropped, drew my weapon, but his second shot didn’t miss. The shooter took off into the alley when I returned fire.”
“Anyone else see him?” Sheriff Chase pressed.
“Didn’t stick around to ask,” Brady said dryly. “But I know what I saw. Dean Kellarman.”
Gage studied him, noting the casual delivery, the lack of adrenaline that should’ve been there after a close call like that.
“You said this Dean Kellarman fired two shots,” Gage said. “We didn’t hear either of them.”
Brady met his gaze. “That’s because he used a silencer.”
Gage’s brow twitched. It was possible. Equally possible, too, that this was all a lie.
The sheriff gave a slow nod, her expression unreadable. “We’ll check the feeds and get statements from anyone nearby. Until then, consider yourself in protective custody.”
Brady gave her a humorless smile. “Now, why doesn’t that make me feel safe?” he muttered.
Sheriff Chase motioned for the deputies to clear space as she guided Brady into her office. The door stayed open, the scent of blood faint in the air.
Gage and Rena watched from just outside while Brady sat on the edge of a chair, his arm wrapped tight, his phone gripped in his hand. It didn’t take long before sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder until the ambulance lights strobed through the station windows.
“Ride with him,” the sheriff said to one of her deputies. “Stay with him until the doctors clear him for release. I want eyes on him every second.”
Brady pushed himself to his feet, pale but steady. “Really, that’s not necessary,” he remarked. “I’ll call in my own security detail. If Crossfire Ops, or Corrine, is coming after me, I’d rather not rely on small-town backup.”
The sheriff’s jaw tightened. “Humor me.”
The EMTs came in, their radios crackling, and began transferring Brady onto a stretcher. He didn’t argue, but Gage noted how his expression never quite matched his words, more calculation than concern.
Once the stretcher was wheeled out and the sirens faded again, Sheriff Chase turned to Gage and Rena. “You think this is a setup?” she came out and asked. “Could he have arranged this himself?”
Gage didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. It’s possible.”
Rena made a sound of agreement and continued the explanation. “He’s got means, motive, and opportunity and was at the hangar when that grenade went off. Maybe he figured putting himself in the line of fire again would make him look like a victim, not a suspect.”
The sheriff stayed quiet a long moment, obviously processing that. “If that’s true, he’s playing a dangerous game.”
Yeah. And so far, he’s good at it. His lawyers could play this to work in Brady’s favor.
Gage’s phone buzzed, cutting through the low murmur of the station. He glanced at the screen, saw that it was from Noah, and he answered it right away.
“Put me on speaker,” Noah said, skipping any greeting. “I want Rena and Sheriff Chase to hear this.”
Gage did, and both Rena and the sheriff stepped close. “Done,” he let his boss know.
Noah didn’t waste time. “All the kids who were at the party just got threatening texts. Every single one of them. They came from a burner phone.”
Rena swore softly. Gage felt the cold knot of anger tighten in his gut.
“They’re terrified,” Noah went on, “except Lily. She’s insisting on coming in to help.”
“Of course she is,” Rena muttered, shaking her head.
“I’m not letting her anywhere near headquarters,” Noah insisted. “I’ve already got teams securing every kid and their families. Working with the parents now to move them all to safe houses.” He paused, his voice low but hard. “Whoever’s behind this wants leverage. I won’t give them any.”
Gage leaned on the desk, jaw clenched. “You think they’ll actually go after the kids?”
“I think they’ll try,” Noah was quick to say. “That’s why I’m locking it down. No more chances to get at the kids.”
Gage shifted his weight, the phone still on speaker between him and Rena. He could hear the low murmur of voices on Noah’s end, then a pause.
“Hold on,” Noah said. “Got another call coming in, one of my informants. Don’t hang up.”
The line went silent except for the faint buzz of static. Gage glanced at Rena and the sheriff. They were watching the phone like it might detonate. He didn’t blame them. After everything that had happened, every piece of news felt like a trigger waiting to go off.
Two minutes crawled by before Noah came back on. His voice was sharper now, more focused. “Just got some intel you’re going to want to hear. My informant says Rhett Danner recently purchased two helicopters. Isla’s digging to confirm it, but if it checks out, that’s a big damn red flag.”
Rena frowned. “Two choppers? He certainly didn’t mention that.”
“Exactly,” Noah said. “And there’s more. The same source says there are at least two other possible sites where Rhett’s people—or whoever’s bankrolling him—might’ve trained and assembled before the attack at the party.”
Gage’s pulse kicked up. “Locations?”
“Nothing solid yet,” Noah said. “But once Isla pins them down, I want them checked. Both of them. If the intel’s right, we might finally have a lead straight to the bastard who wants us all dead.”
Gage nodded even though Noah couldn’t see it. “Then tell Isla to move fast. We’ll be ready.”
“Good,” Noah said, his voice low and grim. “Because I’ve got a feeling whoever’s running this is about to make their next move.”