Chapter Nine
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Colt stared at the note, the scrawled handwriting jagged and angry across the page. It said exactly what Naomi said.
That the killer was threatening Jared since Naomi had escaped death.
Sheriff Chase stepped in beside them and took one look. “No one else touches the note,” she ordered. “I’ll get an evidence bag.” She turned and strode down the hall.
Colt didn’t need to touch it. He could already feel the weight of it pressing in.
He glanced at Brenna. The flicker of doubt in her eyes told him she was thinking the same thing he was. Harlan, too. His jaw was locked tight.
“Why leave a note and not just take Jared?” Harlan asked, voice quiet but edged with suspicion.
Naomi blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t know,” she said after a beat. “Maybe they couldn’t get to him. Maybe something scared them off.”
Colt shifted his attention to Jared, who looked like he was seconds from unraveling. His face had gone chalk-white, and his hands trembled at his sides.
“I need protection,” Jared said, his voice cracking. “I don’t want to end up like those other people from Timberline. I don’t want to die.”
Naomi stepped in without hesitation and took his hand. “Nothing’s going to happen to you,” she insisted. “I won’t let it. And they won’t either.”
She turned to Colt, Brenna, and Harlan. Her glare was sharp. “You’re just going to stand there? Do something. Protect him.”
Colt watched the scene unfold in front of him. The fear in Jared’s eyes. The fire in Naomi’s voice. The grip of her hand on his.
It all looked real. Felt real.
But emotion could be faked. Fear could be staged. And killers didn’t always wear the face of a monster. Sometimes they looked like a desperate woman and her trembling assistant.
Colt kept his voice even. “I’m sure the sheriff can arrange protection.”
He didn’t say from what. Or from whom. Because until he had proof, he wasn’t ruling anything out. Not Naomi. Not Jared.
And not the possibility that one or both of them were playing a very dangerous game.
Naomi groaned and leaned against the doorframe, one hand pressed to her temple like the weight of everything had finally crashed down on her.
Her lawyer stepped up behind her, smoothing his tie. “I’ll get the interview rescheduled. She’s in no condition to be questioned right now.”
Colt turned toward him. “The interview isn’t optional. Two people are dead. Another, Wallace Kemp, is still missing. That means every minute counts.”
Naomi’s head snapped up, fire suddenly flaring in her eyes. “Missing?” she spat. “You think Wallace is missing? I don’t believe that. I believe he’s behind this, that he’s the one doing it.”
Colt stiffened. He hadn’t expected that. A glance at Brenna and Harlan told him they hadn’t either.
Brenna narrowed her eyes. “Why do you think that?”
Naomi straightened, her jaw tight. “Because I think Wallace has gone off the rails. He was always obsessed with Timberline. Obsessed with who was responsible. He called me a couple of months ago, ranting about how nothing had been made right. How justice was a lie. And how he knew things no one else did.”
Colt took a step closer, studying her. “What kind of things?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. Just kept going on about secrets. About how he was going to expose everything. He sounded… different. Not like himself. I’ve talked to him multiple times over the years, and he’s never ranted that like.”
Brenna looked skeptical. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
“I didn’t think he’d actually do something,” Naomi snapped, and then she groaned. “I thought he was just angry.” Colt held her gaze. There was a sharp edge to her voice. Conviction. Maybe fear.
Naomi drew in a long breath as if trying to steady herself. “Wallace’s wife left him several months ago, right before he called me. She packed up and walked out because he couldn’t let go of Timberline. It consumed him.”
Colt didn’t respond. Not yet. He was still weighing every word. Just because she believed it didn’t make it true.
The sheriff returned, gloved up, with an evidence bag in hand. She took the note from Jared, gave it a long look, then slid it into the bag and sealed it.
Naomi’s lawyer stepped in again. “My client isn’t in the right frame of mind for an interview. This will have to be rescheduled.”
Naomi nodded and clutched Jared’s arm. “He needs protection. You heard what the note said.”
Jared’s face was pale. “I don’t want to die.” His voice was as shaky as the rest of him.
The sheriff sighed, looked at Colt, Brenna, and Harlan. “I’ll let you know when we reschedule.”
They all left without another word.
Once they were out of earshot, they stopped before heading toward the exit. “I can run Jared. A deep dive,” Harlan suggested.
“Do it,” Colt said.
Brenna’s brow was tight. “Naomi and Jared are close. It’s possible they’re both in on it.”
Colt had already considered that and made a quick sound of agreement. “But why? Publicity? That’s a hell of a way to get it.”
“Maybe it’s more,” Brenna replied. “Maybe something happened between Naomi and Wallace. She pointed the finger fast. For three years, she’s never once said Wallace might be guilty. So why now?”
“That’s something we need to find out,” Colt said.
Colt, Brenna, and Harlan moved toward the front door of the station, but before they got there, the door swung open.
Gary stepped inside, cursing under his breath when he saw them.
His clothes were dirty, his face streaked with sweat and grime.
Scratches ran along his arms and neck, and his hair looked like he’d been running through brush.
“Where the hell have you been?” Colt demanded.
Gary scowled. “I wasn’t about to sit around and wait to be blown to bits. Not when it’s obvious none of you trust me. You all think I was part of that attack.”
“Were you?” Colt asked.
“No,” the man snarled.
Colt narrowed his eyes. “Then you’ll have no problem telling us where you’ve been and what you were doing when the bridge exploded and those bullets were cooked off.”
Gary’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. “I was running. I heard the first blast and bailed. I didn’t know who was shooting or what was going on. All I knew was I didn’t want to be the next body in a bag.”
Brenna stepped beside Colt. “Convenient that you ran before the shooting even started.”
Gary looked at her. “You think I’d stick around after an explosion like that? I panicked. You want to have me arrested for trying to save my own ass, then go ahead.”
There was the sound of approaching footsteps, and Colt looked back to see Sheriff Chase making her way toward them. Her gaze swept over all of them, landing on Gary. “Is there a problem?”
“Yeah, there’s a problem,” Gary snapped. “These three are trying to pin the murders and attacks on me. Still pissed off because I had car trouble and couldn’t get to Timberline in time to save them.”
Harlan stepped forward, his eyes hard. “We saved ourselves. But someone tipped off the person who killed the hostages. Someone who knew where we were.”
“Well, it sure as hell wasn’t me,” Gary said, glaring back at him.
He turned to the sheriff. “I’ll give you a statement.
Hell, I’ll answer whatever questions you want.
But I’m not going to be part of some Crossfire Ops witch hunt.
They’re looking for someone to blame, and I’m telling you right now, it won’t be me. ”
Sheriff Chase gave no visible reaction. She handed the bagged note to one of her deputies and then nodded toward the hallway.
“Let me have a word with you three,” she said, motioning for Colt, Brenna, and Harlan to step aside.
Once they stepped into the hall, the sheriff stopped and turned to face them.
“Is it possible Gary’s behind this?” she asked.
Colt didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Harlan gave a tight nod. “Absolutely.”
“But he’s not the only one I don’t trust,” Colt added. “Naomi and her assistant, Jared, are on that list too.”
The sheriff nodded. “I agree. I’ll talk to Gary. I’ll push where I can and see if anything shakes loose. I’ll keep you all updated.”
“Appreciate it,” Colt said.
They turned to leave, heading back down the hallway when Brenna’s phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket. “Unknown number,” she muttered and answered the call, moving the phone closer to Harlan and him so they’d all three be able to hear.
“It’s Wallace,” the voice on the other end of the line panted. “I got away, but they’re coming. Please. You have to help me.”
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