Chapter Four #2
Griff keyed them in through the private entrance, the station door shutting behind them with a soft click. They moved through the front area, both shrugging off their coats and tossing them over the backs of their chairs.
The morning hum was already in full swing.
Deputy Hayes Brodie was at his desk, thick arms folded, eyes scanning a case file with the same grim focus he used in the field.
His wife, Deputy Jemma Salvetti Brodie, was across the room, stacking papers with an intensity that suggested she was still trying to prove herself.
She’d only been on the force for a little under two years, but she worked twice as hard as most. Griff respected that.
Deputy Jesse McCain sat closest to the exit, one leg propped over the other, typing with the ease of someone who could drop into a fight or a briefing without missing a beat.
Griff figured the fourth deputy on dayshift, probably Torres, was still out at the fire scene, securing the perimeter or collecting whatever hadn’t burned.
Lily slid into her chair, glancing toward Jemma as she passed.
“You okay?” Jemma asked, voice quiet, careful.
Lily gave her a short nod. “Yeah. Aside from the coward trying to scare me off.”
That drew Hayes’ attention. He looked up from his report, mouth tightening. Jesse sat forward slightly.
“If you need anything,” Hayes said, “say the word.”
Jesse nodded. “I’ve got your back.”
Even Jemma straightened. “Same here.”
Griff didn’t chime in. He didn’t need to. He was already in this with her, and she knew it.
The soft creak of the door opening had them all glancing up as Sheriff Hallie McQueen stepped out of her office, a coffee mug in hand and her ever-neutral expression in place.
She scanned the room, then focused on Lily. “No new updates from the fire department or the lab,” she said. “But Rhett Hale should be here in about thirty minutes.”
Griff nodded and pulled up the digital case file on his screen, his fingers already moving. Thirty minutes wasn’t much time, but it might be enough to get their footing before the man who led the original investigation walked through the door.
He had a feeling they’d need it.
Hallie ducked back inside her office, and a moment later, she came back out carrying a cardboard box. She set it down on Lily’s desk.
“Green light’s official,” Hallie said, glancing at both Lily and him. “You’re both on the cold case full-time. No patrol. No distractions. Run it down until you’ve got answers.”
Griff nodded once, already expecting that. Hallie didn’t waste resources when things got serious. And right now, someone lighting a deputy’s house on fire was about as serious as it got.
Hallie tapped the box lightly. “Brought a few things from the supply locker. Uniforms, some clothes, even a toothbrush and backup boots. Nothing fancy, but it’ll get you through.”
Lily looked up, surprised. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome to stay at my place if you need to,” Hallie offered. “I’ve got the spare room.”
Griff knew she meant it. Hallie didn’t say things she didn’t mean. But he also saw the way Lily hesitated.
“I appreciate it,” Lily said. “But with your fiancé staying over most nights, I don’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t,” Hallie assured her, but she didn’t push.
Before Lily could suggest something else, Griff spoke up. “She can stay with me.”
Lily turned toward him, raising an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” he said simply. “House has space. You’ll be safer there. Private property, cameras, reinforced doors. Not a lot of people know I bought that place, and that’s how I like it.”
Lily leaned back slightly, folding her arms. “I was thinking maybe a hotel. Just until I can find something to rent.”
He shook his head. “Too many variables. Someone’s targeting you. You hole up at a hotel, you risk drawing in civilians. Staff. Guests. People who don’t deserve to get caught up in this.”
Her eyes locked with his. She didn’t argue right away, and he didn’t fill the silence.
Finally, she gave a small nod.
“All right,” she said. “Your place it is.”
Griff didn’t let the flicker of relief show. Having her nearby meant he could keep watch—make sure nothing slipped through the cracks.
Because whoever had started this wasn’t finished yet.
Griff rolled his chair over, closing the small distance between his desk and Lily’s. She had the file with Bobby Ray’s name on it sitting in her bag like she’d never let it out of reach. When he nodded toward it, she pulled it free and set it on the desk between them.
“Let’s start with the police reports,” he said. “Go through them line by line and see if anything pops.”
Lily opened the folder, flipping past the initial crime scene photos, but before they could get further, the front door creaked open.
The air in the room shifted.
Griff looked up, instinctively alert. A woman had stepped inside.
Mid-thirties, shoulder-length brown hair pulled back tight.
Her coat was fitted, dark gray, expensive enough to say she hadn’t been living paycheck to paycheck.
But her posture was rigid. Controlled. Like she was constantly bracing for a fight.
Her expression didn’t soften when she stepped through the threshold and approached the security checkpoint. If anything, it hardened more.
“That’s Hannah’s sister, Margo,” Lily whispered, already rising to her feet.
Griff stayed seated, watching closely as the woman moved through the metal detector. No jewelry, no purse, no hesitation. She didn’t speak, but her eyes, sharp and flat, locked on Lily with unmistakable heat.
And it wasn’t friendly.
Griff saw the flicker in Lily’s jaw, the way her shoulders squared. Margo Cole hadn’t come in to play nice.
Margo stepped through the metal detector like she was marching into a courtroom. Chin up, eyes sharp, jaw locked tight. The air around her was charged, tension rolling off her like heat off asphalt. She didn’t spare a glance at anyone else in the bullpen.
“I want to talk,” she said, her voice cutting through the quiet.
Lily didn’t move from her desk. “Then talk.”
Griff watched the exchange without blinking. Lily hadn’t offered to step into a conference room. She hadn’t tried to ease the tension. And Margo noticed.
She came closer, stiff-backed, and leaned in, dropping her voice to a harsh whisper that still carried across the desks.
“You have to stop this. This—this nonsense with Bobby Ray’s trial. Digging it all up again. You’re just stirring up old wounds, and for what? To play detective? To make a name for yourself in your little hometown department?”
Lily didn’t even blink. Griff didn’t move either. He watched Margo carefully, noting the flushed cheeks, the tremor just beneath the surface of her voice.
“I’m having nightmares,” Margo hissed. “Flashbacks. People keep calling me, asking about the murder, the trial, what I remember. It’s constant. I can’t even sleep.”
She wrapped her arms around herself like she was cold, but Griff saw it for what it was. Defensive posture. Panic masked as anger.
“I just want it to stop,” Margo added a heartbeat later. “I want my sister to rest in peace.”
Griff’s voice came low and even. “Maybe Hannah’s not resting in peace.”
Margo’s head snapped toward him.
“If her killer’s still out there,” he spelled out, “maybe she’s still waiting for someone to do the right thing.”
The reaction was immediate. Margo flinched, visibly, as if he’d struck her. Her mouth opened, then shut again, and her eyes flicked away from Lily for the first time.
Guilt. Fear. Something she hadn’t expected to hear.
Griff leaned back slightly, letting the silence stretch between them.
And Margo? She looked like a woman who knew a lot more than she wanted to admit.
Griff didn’t move, didn’t blink, just watched as Margo shifted.
It happened in an instant. Her posture changed, her tone softened, her expression smoothing out like she’d remembered herself. Or at least remembered who she was supposed to be.
“No one’s saying Bobby Ray wasn’t troubled,” Margo went on, quieter now, more controlled. “But… please, Lily. Just let this go.”
Lily’s voice was steady. “I can’t.”
Margo looked at her sharply.
“I won’t,” Lily said. “Because Bobby Ray sent me a letter. A week before he died.”
That stopped Margo cold. Her face went still, eyes locked on Lily like she hadn’t heard her right. “He actually sent you a letter?”
Lily nodded once. “A letter. Handwritten.”
Margo’s breath hitched. It was quick, but Griff caught it. So did Lily.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the gossip by now,” Lily added. “Half the town’s been whispering about it.”
“I… I heard,” Margo admitted. “But I thought it was just a rumor.”
“It’s not,” Lily verified. “I have it.”
Margo’s mouth parted slightly, her brows drawing together. “What did it say?”
Lily didn’t hesitate. “I didn’t kill her. Prove it.”
Margo stared at her like she’d been knocked off balance. Her knees gave out a second later, and she dropped into the nearest chair. Griff’s. It wasn’t theatrical. It was real. Genuine shock. Maybe fear.
Margo stayed in Griff’s chair for a moment longer, her hands gripping the arms like she needed the grounding. Her eyes were still on Lily, but she wasn’t really looking at her, more like through her, as if trying to piece something together.
Then she exhaled, short and shaky, and stood.
Griff watched her carefully. The way she moved, the way she squared her shoulders. She was trying to steady herself, trying to act like the words hadn’t rattled her. But they had. That much was clear.
What stood out to him most, though, was what she didn’t say. Not once did she ask the question she should have asked.
If Bobby Ray didn’t kill my sister… then who did?
That silence said more than anything else.
Margo cleared her throat. “I don’t expect to be in town much longer, so I won’t have to deal with people’s calls and behind the hand whispers,” she muttered, speaking mostly to Griff now. “I’m only here to clear out my mother’s house.”
He nodded once. “Your mother passed recently?”
“Three months ago,” Margo replied. “I hadn’t… I hadn’t had a chance to get back to Outlaw Ridge. Too much going on in Austin. Work. Life.”
“So you’re not planning on moving back,” Griff said, though it wasn’t really a question.
Margo let out a bitter laugh. “God, no. This place is packed with bad memories. I couldn’t wait to get out, and nothing’s changed.
The sooner I get away, the better. I can change my phone number and stop the calls.
I don’t want people’s sympathies. I don’t want to rehash what happened to my sister. ”
She glanced at Lily again, eyes sharp but softer now. Like maybe she wanted to say something else. Perhaps ask her to stop digging into this. Beg her, maybe. Or confess something she didn’t have the stomach to put into words.
But whatever was on her mind, the woman swallowed it.
Without another word, without even a goodbye, Margo turned and walked out of the station, the door clicking shut behind her.
Griff stayed quiet for a moment, then turned back to Lily. “She’s hiding something,” he said.
And from the look in Lily’s eyes, she thought so too.
Griff sat back down, dragging his chair in close again as the door eased shut behind Margo. The last trace of her perfume still lingered in the air. Something sharp and expensive, like her.
He turned toward Lily, his voice low. “How soon did Margo leave after Hannah’s murder?”
Lily didn’t answer right away. She stared at the door for a moment longer, then slowly turned back to the file in front of her.
“Soon,” she said. “Within a week or two, I think.”
She flipped a page in the case file, then frowned and shook her head.
“No… actually, it was right after Bobby Ray was charged. Not before.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as she worked it through.
“She stuck around while the cops were questioning people. I remember hearing she was commuting to San Antonio for college classes at the time, but after Bobby Ray was arrested, she left. Just packed up and went.”
“Left her mother to grieve their daughter,” Griff said, watching her closely.
Lily nodded. “I don’t remember her coming back. Not once. Not for the trial. Not after the conviction. Not for the funeral, as far as I know.”
Griff leaned back slightly in his chair, hands folded.
“She didn’t want to be here,” he concluded.
“No,” Lily agreed. “She wanted to disappear.”
The sharp crack split the air like a whip. One second of silence followed, tight, breathless, and then every deputy in the bullpen was on their feet.
Griff’s hand was already on his weapon. He saw Lily go for hers, too. Hayes and Jesse moved to flank the doors, and Jemma edged toward the side hallway, her hand at her radio.
“Could’ve been a car backfiring,” Lily muttered, eyes locked on the front entrance.
But a moment later, movement blurred across the frosted glass. A figure sprinting toward the station. Griff stepped forward, weapon raised just as the door flew open and the man stumbled in, wild-eyed and gasping.
Blood streaked down the man’s right arm, soaking through the sleeve of a worn canvas jacket as he stumbled through the front doors of the station. His face was pale, twisted in pain, and his eyes scanned the room like he wasn’t sure he’d made it to the right place.
Griff had his weapon halfway raised, until recognition hit.
Rhett Hale.
Older than his file photo, rougher too. His gray-flecked beard was longer, but the eyes were the same. Sharp. Exhausted. Pissed off.
Griff had seen his face in the background check Hallie had pulled. A dozen commendations buried under a reputation for being difficult, stubborn, too blunt for his own good. The kind of cop who got things done until he rubbed enough people the wrong way to be nudged quietly into early retirement.
Lily’s voice cut through the shock. “Rhett?”
The man looked at her, eyes wild with pain. Then he grabbed the doorframe for balance, swayed once, and blurted out, “I’ve been shot.”
───── ? ────