Chapter Five
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Kincade stared at the phone screen, his mind locking for a second as the image sharpened. The shadows faded just enough so he could confirm who it was.
Deputy Marlene Lang.
And she had a gun pointed at Travis.
Not drawn casually. Not defensive. She was angled toward him, tight-gripped, her face set like she wasn’t giving him a choice.
Beside him, Cassidy went still. Not a flinch or a word, just that kind of shock that settled in your chest and made it hard to breathe.
Kincade forced his eyes off the screen, his pulse spiking hard. He hadn’t known what they’d find…but this? A deputy. Someone Cassidy had worked alongside. Someone who had carried herself like any other cop trying to do the job.
Travis had warned them though. In that message, he’d said the person who had murdered Harlan wore a badge. Was it her? Because if Marlene had taken Travis at gunpoint, she wasn’t just involved.
She was a killer.
Maybe not just Harlan’s either, but possibly Travis as well. Hell, maybe even Alisha all those years ago.
Dr. Pat let out a low sigh and pressed one last butterfly bandage to the side of his head. “You really need a hospital,” she muttered.
Kincade slid off the too-small exam table. “Not yet.” Not until he’d talked to the cop who’d held his friend and partner at gunpoint.
Cassidy obviously felt that same urgency since she was already at the door.
Jericho, still holding his phone, was scrolling quickly as he moved. The three of them hurried out the door.
“Thanks for fixing him up,” Jericho called back to the doctor. Kincade added his thanks as well. “I owe you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she griped as if they were a major pain in her ass, and Kincade made a mental note to send her payment in case she wasn’t already on Ruby’s payroll.
“Deputy Marlene Lang lives in a town called Clear Rock, about fifteen miles east,” Jericho relayed to them, reading from his phone screen. “She should be off duty by now, if her shift ended when it’s supposed to.”
Kincade nodded. “Then we’re going to Clear Rock right now.”
“I’ll follow,” Jericho insisted. “Let’s see if Marlene wants to explain what the hell she was doing.”
Kincade didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Because he already knew they weren’t going there to ask nicely. They were going to see what Marlene had to hide and just how far she’d go to keep it buried.
The late sun had dropped lower by the time they made it out of the building. The air was cooler now, the kind of dry Texas breeze that whispered over cracked pavement and carried dust off the hills.
Jericho went to his van and came back with a black tactical backpack by one strap. He tossed it to Kincade with an easy arc.
“Figured you might want to gear up,” Jericho said. “It’s the ready-for-anything op bag.”
Kincade caught it with one hand, already unzipping the main compartment as they moved toward Cassidy’s truck. Inside, it was exactly what he expected.
And more.
A Glock 19 with two spare mags. A compact SIG in a nylon holster.
A full clip of .40 hollow points and two boxes of backup ammo.
Satellite phone, burner cell, and a charger kit.
A roll of cash, two prepaid credit cards, a passport that wasn’t his but would pass in a pinch.
A med kit with blood clotting spray, gauze, bandages, and epinephrine.
A change of clothes, energy bars, electrolyte packets, and a sealed bottle of water.
Kincade dug through the inner mesh pouch and paused, brow furrowing. He held up a foil-wrapped condom and looked over at Jericho.
Jericho shrugged. “Never know how a mission’s gonna end. Might as well be prepared.”
Cassidy snorted behind him but didn’t comment.
Kincade shoved the condom to the bottom of the pack and zipped it shut. Even now, it was best not to think of condoms or sex around Cassidy. The heat between them didn’t need help like that.
“Let’s move,” Cassidy said, already sliding behind the wheel.
Kincade tossed the backpack on the floor of the truck and climbed in beside her as Jericho headed to his own vehicle. They pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as they turned east toward Clear Rock. The road narrowed quickly, giving way to rugged terrain and long shadows across the asphalt.
Mesas and low hills rose in the distance, brush thick along the fences, the land untouched and wide open. The Texas Hill Country was beautiful, but tonight it felt different. Not peaceful.
Predatory.
It was a very uneasy feeling to know they could have a murdering cop on their hands.
The road unwound in front of them, narrow and cracked, cutting through cedar-lined hills and dry pastures that rolled in every direction.
Cassidy kept one hand on the wheel, eyes sharp, shoulders tight.
She hadn’t said much since they left the clinic, but Kincade could feel the tension radiating off her in waves.
He powered on the burner phone Jericho had supplied and opened a secure app to start a background run on Marlene Lang. It took less than a minute for the results to load.
“Lang’s thirty-five,” he said, scrolling. “Born and raised in the county. Divorced. No kids. Got her badge just under twelve years ago.”
Cassidy flicked him a glance. “Which means she was a rookie when Alisha was murdered.”
“Yep.” Kincade kept reading. “Clean record. Commendations for community work, two letters of recognition, one temporary suspension for excessive force—later cleared. No red flags on paper. No internal affairs cases that stuck.” He lowered the phone slightly. “Nothing stands out.”
Cassidy’s jaw tightened. “Which makes her the perfect choice for something like this. Quiet. Controlled. Not the type you’d suspect.”
“Exactly,” Kincade said. He hesitated, then added, “You know she might try to kill us.”
Cassidy nodded once, her grip tightening on the wheel. “Yeah. I know.”
Her voice was steady, but there was something underneath it. Resolve, and maybe something darker.
“But we don’t have a choice,” she said.
Kincade studied her profile, the sharp line of her jaw, the quiet fire in her eyes. “We’ve got footage. Her, with a gun on Travis. That’s enough to bring her in. We could turn her over to the Rangers.”
Cassidy exhaled slowly. “Part of me wants to. Wants to see her arrested, booked, processed with every damn step of it on the record.”
“But?”
“But going to anyone in law enforcement is too big of a risk,” she said, her voice low. “We don’t know how far this goes. Who else is involved. Travis warned us not to trust anyone in law enforcement.”
Kincade nodded. “So we walk into it alone.”
She glanced at him again, the corners of her mouth tilting slightly. “You say that like we haven’t done it before.”
Kincade leaned back in the seat, hand resting near the backpack at his feet. “Yeah. But this time, it’s personal.”
He wasn’t going to let it end in another body in the dirt. Not Travis. And not Cassidy either.
The truck rolled over a patch of uneven pavement, rattling slightly as the sun dipped lower, casting amber light across the dashboard.
They had about two miles left before Clear Rock came into view.
Trees thickened along the roadside, casting long shadows that stretched like fingers across the two-lane highway.
Kincade shifted in his seat, the phone still resting in his hand, but his thoughts were miles from the screen now. He glanced over at Cassidy, her profile lit gold in the fading light, her focus steady on the road ahead.
He exhaled through his nose. “About what Jericho said… back at the clinic.”
Cassidy didn’t look over. “What part? The pining, or the off-limits bit?”
Kincade gave a dry huff. “Both.”
That got her attention. She glanced at him, then back to the road.
He cleared his throat. “Travis did tell me to back off. He said no one from Maverick Ops touches his kid sister. Not even me.”
Cassidy’s grip on the wheel didn’t change, but something flickered in her expression.
“But it wasn’t just that,” Kincade continued. “He’s my partner. We work together too damn well, and I didn’t want to screw that up. Not for something that might…” He trailed off, searching for the right words.
She finally looked at him, eyebrow lifted. “That might what?”
He met her gaze, jaw tightening, but not pulling back. “I didn’t plan on it being a one-off.”
The silence stretched for a beat. Then she arched a brow. “What did you plan on it being?”
Kincade looked at her, really looked. And realized he hadn’t stopped asking himself that question since the night it happened.
Before Kincade could even attempt an answer, Cassidy’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen, and her mouth pulled tight.
“Damn,” she muttered, then tapped to answer and hit speaker. “It’s Mayor Vance Harlan,” she let him know.
Kincade stilled. Vance. Daniel Harlan’s brother. This probably wouldn’t be a pleasant call.
The voice on the other end came through sharp and impatient. “Deputy Prescott. I hope you’re about to tell me where your brother is.”
Cassidy kept her eyes on the road, expression flat. “I’m not.”
“Then let me make this simple,” Mayor Harlan snapped. “Travis isn’t going to disappear into the hills and come out clean. He murdered my brother, and I won’t let some misguided family loyalty turn you into an accessory.”
“I don’t believe Travis killed him,” Cassidy replied, her voice low and calm.
“Bullshit,” Vance barked. “You’ve seen the reports. You know there’s an eyewitness placing him near the lake house. You think anyone’s going to buy that he was just taking a walk and Daniel ended up shot in the head?”
Kincade clenched his jaw but stayed silent. Cassidy hadn’t told Vance she was with someone, and he wasn’t going to give that away by speaking up.
“If you’re hiding him,” the mayor continued, “I swear to God, I’ll have you arrested. You’ll go down with him.”
Cassidy didn’t flinch. “I’m not hiding him. I’m trying to find out the truth.”