Outlaw Ridge: Griff (Hard Justice: Outlaw Ridge #8)

Chapter One

I didn’t kill her. Prove it.

Deputy Lily Oliver stared down at what was written in the dead man’s letter.

The paper was soft at the edges from how many times she’d unfolded and refolded it.

Bobby Ray Moore’s handwriting was sharp and deliberate, each stroke pressed deep into the page.

Like he knew this would be the last thing he ever said.

And it was.

This letter was Bobby Ray’s final message to the outside world. And he’d sent it to her.

Why?

That was the question repeating in Lily’s head as she sat at her desk in the now quiet bullpen of the Outlaw Ridge PD.

The letter was front and center, right in the middle of the cold case files spread around her like a jigsaw puzzle without a picture to guide her.

The desk fan stirred the corners of her reports, and the faint scent of dust and old paper clung to the air.

Most of the building had cleared out hours ago as her fellow dayshift deputies had left to go home, but she’d stayed behind. She couldn’t walk away. Not yet.

Across the room, the swing shift deputies, Mickey Morales and Jacob Thornton, sat at their desks pretending to be immersed in their own work, though Lily could feel their sideways glances.

The town was already talking.

Bobby Ray Moore had been dead a week, succumbing to cancer, and now Lily was digging up the murder that everyone believed had already been laid to rest. The one that no one wanted questioned. The one that people had thought was dead and buried along with the victim, and now Bobby Ray himself.

And it could stay buried, she reminded herself.

She could move on to one of the other numerous cold cases she was responsible for. But those six words were etching away at her like acid.

I didn’t kill her. Prove it.

Footsteps echoed behind her, and she looked up just as Deputy Griff Abrams walked in from the break room, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He, too, was a day shift deputy who should have been home hours ago, but here he was, no doubt working on something that had its teeth in him as well.

Their gazes met for a second, maybe a heartbeat too long for a mere glance. But then, Griff had a way of catching her attention—and not just because of his dark brown hair, always a little tousled like he couldn’t stop running his fingers through it, or those cool gray eyes that missed nothing.

Along with being her fellow deputy, Griff was also an operative with Strike Force, the elite investigations and security team that had stepped in after most of the Outlaw Ridge PD was wiped out nine months ago.

Nearly the entire department had been rebuilt from scratch, and she and Griff were part of that rebuild.

He wasn’t local, and she had no idea if he was planning to stay in Outlaw Ridge. But in the meantime, he and a handful of other Strike Force operatives had brought experience, tactical support, and access to resources that small-town cops didn’t usually get.

He didn’t stir the pot. Didn’t gossip. He just did the job, cleanly, thoroughly and without fanfare. And sometimes, when he looked at her, Lily couldn’t help but wonder what he saw.

Tonight was one of those times.

He walked over and sat down across from her, tipping his head toward the letter. “You knew him?”

She didn’t expect the question, not in that low, even tone that somehow managed to cut through the late-night stillness.

“Bobby Ray?” she asked. “Yeah,” Lily added when Griff nodded. “Sort of. He was five years older than me. Lived a few streets over. My dad used to hire him to fix things around the house.”

She dropped her gaze back to the case file.

“He was quiet. Polite. Kept to himself. He used to bring his little sister with him sometimes. Wouldn’t let her out of his sight.” She hesitated. “He didn’t seem like someone who’d snap. But people change.”

“You mind giving me the big picture?” he asked, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “What exactly put him away?”

Lily exhaled and leaned back in her chair. Her gaze drifted down to a black-and-white crime scene photo of Hannah Cole, the victim who had haunted this town for fifteen years.

“Hannah Cole was found strangled in the creek just outside town. Her car was parked nearby, keys still inside. Bobby Ray had worked with her at the feed store the summer before. People said he had a thing for her. She wasn’t interested.”

She paused again, flipping to a page in the file with the forensics summary.

“His fingerprints were on her car door. A small amount of her blood was found in his truck. They found a tire iron in a burn barrel behind his house, fibers from her sweater were on the handle. And the wounds to her skull matched.”

Griff gave a small nod. “That’s more than just circumstantial evidence.”

“Yes,” Lily agreed. “It’s why the jury convicted him. Quickly.”

“But Bobby Ray said he was framed?”

She nodded. “Never changed his story. Said someone planted the tire iron and the blood. Claimed the last time he saw Hannah, she was alive.”

Griff tapped a finger on the folder. “You believe him?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But something’s always felt… off.”

She hesitated again, then added, “I sat in on the trial. I was eighteen. Couldn’t take my eyes off it. Everyone in town had already made up their minds, but I kept thinking, what if they were wrong?”

“Do you think they were wrong?” he came out and asked.

“Ah, that’s the million-dollar question.” She leaned back, arms crossed. “That trial was the reason I became a cop. I didn’t want to sit in a courtroom again, wondering if someone was getting railroaded. I wanted to be the one asking questions, finding the cracks, digging up the truth.”

Griff studied her for a long moment. “And now here you are.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Almost a decade in. First in San Antonio, now back here. Back where it started.”

Before he could respond, her phone buzzed with a text. She glanced down. And saw Unknown Number pop up. Then, she saw the message.

Leave it alone. The past is dead. Dig too deep, and you’ll be dead, too.

Her stomach clenched like she’d been punched in the gut. For a moment, the words didn’t fully register. They were just lines of text on a screen, cold and quiet. But as her mind caught up, her grip on the phone tightened, her pulse kicking hard in her throat.

She stared at the message, jaw locked.

Of course someone would send something like this. She was stirring up a case the town had long since buried, digging into the kind of history people didn’t want unearthed. Still, she drew in a breath and forced herself to dismiss the chill curling down her spine.

“What is it?” Griff asked. He must have caught the change in her expression.

She turned the screen toward him without a word, and his expression darkened as he read it.

“It’s probably just a hoax,” she muttered, more to herself than to Griff.

Griff’s eyes didn’t move from the screen. His voice came out low and flat. “That’s not a prank, Lily. That’s a threat.”

She glanced up, surprised by the sharp edge in his tone. His jaw was tight, his gaze like steel.

“A death threat isn’t how you protest a cop doing her job,” he added. “And you shouldn’t write this off as a hoax.”

Lily gave a small nod, grateful for the steel in his voice, even if she wasn’t ready to admit how much the message rattled her.

She looked back down at Bobby Ray’s letter, her fingers brushing the edge of the paper like it might ground her. The past wasn’t dead. It was restless.

And someone might be willing to kill to keep it buried.

“Were there any other suspects?” Griff asked. “Anyone besides Bobby Ray?”

Lily had to shift her mind from the text back to the investigation. “According to the official report, only one other person was questioned. Briefly.” She flipped to a page in the file and slid it toward him. “Everett Langston.”

Before she could go on and explain who that was, Griff cut in. “The guy who owns the car dealership, the diner, and the gas station?”

So, Griff heard of him. Not a surprise since the Langston name was on all of those businesses.

“Yep. Same one,” she verified. “Around here, Everett Langston’s practically royalty. When it came to town loyalties, he won out over Bobby Ray without even trying.” She stopped, sighed. “But the thing is, the evidence obviously pointed to Bobby Ray. Not Everett.”

Griff didn’t look away from the file. “So why was Everett questioned?”

Lily’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Because of a rumor.”

She flipped to another section of the report, then tapped the corner of a supplemental note buried in the back. “People said he was having an affair with Hannah. She was nineteen. Everett was in his mid-forties. Married.”

Griff’s brow furrowed. He scanned the report and found the DOB. “The victim was just a kid.”

“Yep,” Lily said softly. “And Everett was twenty-five years older. Married to Catherine Marsters-Langston, who, for the record, was never questioned.”

Griff looked up at her, clearly unsettled. “Even with the rumor?”

“Even with the rumor,” Lily confirmed. “No affair confirmed, no motive proven. Everett gave a statement saying he hardly knew Hannah and that was that. He was never brought in again. Never pressed.”

She leaned forward, elbows on the desk, fingers laced tightly beneath her chin. “The thing is… in my opinion, this case was handled fast. Too fast. No one dug deeper than they had to. They had a suspect who looked guilty, and no one wanted to rock the boat by going after someone like Everett.”

Griff sat back in his chair, his expression unreadable as he looked down at the open case file. “And nobody’s rocked it since.”

“Until now,” Lily said.

The name Everett Langston stared back at her from the page.

In this town, some people were untouchable. But she had never been good at leaving things untouched.

Lily had just flipped back to the original arrest report when her phone buzzed again. For a second, her muscles tensed—half expecting another anonymous threat—but when she glanced at the screen, her shoulders loosened.

Sheriff Hallie McQueen.

I know you’re still at work. Go home.

A smile tugged at Lily’s mouth despite the lingering heaviness of the case file. She didn’t even have to respond before another message popped up.

Tell Griff to go home too. I know he’s still there.

Lily let out a soft laugh and turned the screen toward him. “Boss says we’re officially off the clock.”

Griff glanced at the message and quirked one brow. “She tracking us with drones now?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Lily said, her smile lingering. She thumbed back a quick response, a single thumbs up emoji, and slid her phone into her pocket.

With a sigh, she pushed back from the desk and began stacking files, carefully separating the ones she planned to leave behind from the one she wouldn’t. The Bobby Ray Moore case folder was still open in front of her. She closed it slowly, almost reluctantly, and slid it into her bag.

Griff stood as well, finishing the last sip of his coffee before setting the empty cup on his desk. “I’ll walk out with you.”

She slanted him a look. “Because of the leave it alone or you’ll be dead message.”

He didn’t deny it. “Yeah,” he said simply. “I’m thinking about it.”

Lily slung her bag over one shoulder, her fingers brushing the edge of the case folder inside. “Well, you’re not the only one.”

They crossed the quiet bullpen together, the overhead lights humming softly as they made their way toward the exit. They stepped out into the cold January night, the door to the station swinging shut behind them with a soft thud.

The wind hit Lily first, sharp and bitter, slicing straight through the thin cotton of her uniform shirt. She tugged her jacket tighter, grateful for the weight of it, and glanced up at the sky. No stars tonight, just a heavy, clouded blackness.

Griff fell into step beside her, quiet as always, but she felt his presence like a solid wall at her side. Watchful. Steady.

Across the street, the old diner still had its Christmas lights strung along the awning, twinkling stubbornly against the cold. Red, green, and gold cast a soft glow onto the empty sidewalk, even though the holiday had passed three weeks ago.

Lily found herself staring at them for a second longer than necessary. A part of her wished they were just wrapping up a late shift in a town where the biggest problem was a drunk-and-disorderly at closing time.

But Outlaw Ridge hadn’t been that kind of town for a long time.

She turned toward her SUV, parked in the same row as it always was—only now, something was off. Too quiet. Too still. As she got closer, her boots crunching softly on the gravel, her stomach sank.

Both driver’s side tires were flat. No, not flat. Slashed. Jagged cuts across the rubber, deep and deliberate.

“Hell,” she muttered, already crouching to get a better look.

Griff came up behind her. “Stay back,” he said, not harsh, just measured, already scanning the area. His hand moved instinctively toward his holster.

That’s when she saw it.

A folded piece of paper tucked under her windshield wiper. She reached for it slowly, heart thudding, and unfolded it with numb fingers.

There was no signature. No name. Just two lines printed in block letters.

Stop looking or you’ll end up like this.

Her throat tightened as she turned the note over where a photograph had been paper-clipped to the back.

Hannah Cole.

Dead. Face bruised. Lifeless eyes open.

Lily’s breath caught. She’d seen the crime scene photos before, but this wasn’t one from the official file. This one had been taken at a different angle—closer, more intimate, like the person behind the lens had been there. Watching her die.

Griff stepped forward and looked over her shoulder. His voice dropped, steel-hard. “We need to get this logged. Right now.”

Lily didn’t answer right away. She just stood there, staring at Hannah’s lifeless face, the icy wind cutting through the moment.

The warning had just become a promise.

And someone in Outlaw Ridge wasn’t just afraid of what she’d find. They were willing to kill to stop her.

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