Chapter Five
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Lily rushed forward as Rhett swayed, blood running down his arm in a dark, steady stream. Griff was already at his side, catching his elbow, guiding him to the nearest chair with a calm, practiced hand.
“Get me some paper towels,” Griff said, his voice cutting through the startled silence.
Lily sprinted to the break room sink, grabbed what she could, and returned just as Griff crouched beside Rhett, applying pressure to the wound with a cloth pulled from the first aid kit on the wall.
“EMTs are on the way,” Griff said over his shoulder, reaching for gauze. “I called it in.”
“Damn it,” Rhett growled, grimacing as Griff tightened the pressure. “Hurts like hell.”
“You said you’d been shot,” Hallie repeated, coming up beside them. “What happened?”
“I was parked a block up by the florist,” Rhett bit out, jaw clenched. “Got out of my truck and was nearly here when bam—gunshot. Didn’t see who it was. I just ran inside here.”
Lily turned, already moving toward the front windows. She scanned the street outside, eyes sweeping over every car, shadow, and building.
Nothing.
Whoever had pulled the trigger was long gone. And worse, the florist was closed this time of morning. Ditto for the other businesses surrounding it and across the street. So, it’s possible no one had seen anything because if they had, someone would have already reported it by now.
She turned back, stomach tight with frustration. Griff had Rhett settled in the chair now, his jacket peeled back to reveal the wound—clean, through the bicep, bleeding some but not certainly not life-threatening.
“You’ve done this before,” Rhett muttered, sweat beading on his forehead as he watched Griff clean the wound. “That med training from Strike Force?”
Griff gave a nod, already wrapping the bandage. “Hold still.”
Lily watched the scene unfold, her heart hammering with a mix of anger and dread. Someone had tried to stop Rhett from talking, tried to kill him.
Griff worked fast, his hands steady as he tied off the bandage with a strip of gauze, checking the pressure and the bleed. Rhett hissed through his teeth but didn’t complain beyond that.
When Griff stepped back, his eyes lifted. Met hers.
Lily felt it then—something shift in the air. A flicker of something unspoken behind his gaze. It wasn’t concern. Or at least not just that.
She moved toward him, brushing past Jemma, and touched his elbow. “Come here,” she murmured.
They stepped away from the others, just enough to speak without being overheard. Near the end of the hallway, out of Rhett’s line of sight, Griff leaned in slightly, voice low.
“You think it’s possible,” he said, “the injury’s self-inflicted?”
Lily blinked. “What?”
“The angle,” Griff said, nodding toward Rhett. “Entry’s clean. High on the outer bicep. Bullet passed through soft tissue, no bone, no tendon. It’s the kind of shot someone could give themselves, especially if they know what they’re doing.”
She stared at him, stunned. “You think he shot himself?”
“I’m not saying he did,” Griff said calmly. “But I’ve seen self-inflicted wounds. I’ve seen guys do it to avoid combat. Fake an injury, get reassigned. This isn’t impossible.”
Lily folded her arms, jaw tight. “I didn’t expect that theory.”
“Neither did I,” he admitted. “But we can’t ignore it.”
She shook her head slowly, trying to make sense of it. “If he did… why? What would that buy him?”
Griff looked back toward the bullpen, where Rhett sat nursing his arm and muttering under his breath.
“That,” he said, “is what we need to find out.”
Lily followed Griff back to the bullpen, her thoughts tangled and uneasy. She couldn’t shake what he’d said about the wound, how the angle seemed off. It was a stretch. But in this case, even stretches had to be considered.
Rhett was still in the chair, his arm pressed tightly against his side, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He was talking to Hallie, his voice gravelly but forceful.
“I told you that I didn’t see anyone,” he said. “I got out of my truck, and the shot came fast. Didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t see movement. Just pain and pavement.”
Hallie didn’t flinch. “I’m sending out Hayes and Jesse. They’ll knock on doors, ask around. Someone might have seen something.”
Jesse was already grabbing his coat, Hayes right behind him. The front doors closed quietly as they headed out into the cold.
Jemma, who’d been standing near the front windows, turned back toward the group. “What about Margo? She left not long before it happened. Maybe she saw something.”
Rhett’s head whipped up so fast that Lily thought he might aggravate the wound. “Margo?” he snapped. “Why the hell would she have seen anything?”
Lily met his gaze. “Because she’s back in town. And she was just here. Ten minutes ago.”
Rhett’s face shifted, something tight and uneasy pulling at the edges. It wasn’t pain this time.
It was alarm.
“Damn it,” he muttered. “It was probably her then.”
“Why would Margo shoot you?” Griff asked, his tone neutral but probing.
“Because she hates my guts,” Rhett snapped, his voice edged with bitterness. He shifted in the chair, wincing as the movement jostled his arm. “She blames me for Hannah’s death. Says if I’d done my job that night, her sister would still be alive.”
Lily felt her chest tighten.
Rhett looked away, jaw flexing. “Hannah was working late at the feed store. I was inside, talking with Jimmy Doyle, the owner. We were shooting the breeze about a break-in from the week before. She closed up, waved goodbye, and walked out.”
He shook his head, eyes narrowing. “It was dark. I should’ve paid attention, maybe. But she didn’t ask for a ride. Didn’t say anything about being worried. It wasn’t my job to play chauffeur to every girl locking up late.”
Griff’s expression didn’t shift, but Lily could feel the tension coming off him.
“Margo’s hatred is misplaced,” Rhett spat out. “She needed someone to blame for Hannah being dead. Someone other than just Bobby Ray, I guess, and I was the easiest target.”
Lily stood just behind Griff, arms folded as Rhett adjusted in the chair, his breath still coming a little fast, whether from pain or nerves, she couldn’t quite tell. Her eyes dropped to the bloodstained bandage, then back to his face.
She’d read Rhett’s original statement in the file a dozen times. He’d noted being at the feed store, mentioned that Hannah left around closing, but he hadn’t said a word about Margo blaming him. Not even a hint of personal fallout. And that stuck with her now.
“I’m not familiar with all the details of the case,” Griff said, calm, his tone almost casual.
Lily glanced at him, surprised. She knew he was familiar with the details. He’d read the file cover to cover in under an hour, and his memory was like a steel trap. He hadn’t forgotten anything.
He was baiting Rhett. Carefully.
“What was the estimated time of death?” Griff asked. “After she left the store.”
Rhett’s jaw tightened. His eyes flicked toward Lily, then back to Griff. “Less than an hour,” he said finally.
Griff nodded slowly. “So you were possibly the last person to see her alive.” He paused. “Other than her killer, that is.”
Rhett’s face flushed. He sat forward with a grimace, his good hand curling into a fist on his thigh.
“Yes,” he snapped. “I was.” He cursed under his breath and dragged his hand over his face, eyes squeezing shut for a second. “I should’ve taken her home,” he muttered. “I should’ve walked her out, made sure she was okay.”
But Lily watched him closely, heart thudding. Something about the way he said it—the sharpness of it, the way the words seemed too practiced, too clean—made her pause.
The guilt didn’t feel real. It felt rehearsed.
She frowned, but didn’t speak yet. Not until she could make sense of the tangle forming in her gut.
Why would Rhett have had a reason to hurt Hannah?
What wasn’t he saying?
Lily stood next to Griff, arms crossed tight across her chest, watching Rhett as he leaned back in the chair, his jaw tight and his eyes avoiding hers. She frowned, but didn’t say anything yet. Not until she could make sense of the knot winding in her stomach.
Her thoughts drifted, unwelcome, to that moment years ago when Rhett had cornered her outside a training exercise in San Antonio and dropped a sleazy line about needing help with his “handcuff technique.” She’d laughed it off at the time and walked away, but it had stayed with her, not because it was clever, but because it felt off.
Calculated. Like he was testing a boundary.
Had he tried that same approach with Hannah?
It wasn’t impossible. But if he had, there’d never been a whisper of a rumor. Not back then. Not after.
She decided to try to find out, but she needed to ease into it. See what he’d give her.
“Did you ever see Hannah and Bobby Ray together outside of work?” Lily asked, tilting her head just enough to appear casual.
Rhett blinked, then rubbed at his bandaged arm, thinking.
“Outside of work?” He shook his head slowly.
“Not that I can recall. I mean, they knew each other, sure. Worked the same shifts some weekends. But hanging out off the clock? No.” He paused.
“But I did see Bobby Ray with Margo a couple of times.”
That stopped her, and she straightened slightly. “What were they doing?”
Rhett shrugged. “Just talking. Outside the store once. And once in the parking lot behind the library. Didn’t look heated. Just quiet.”
Griff said nothing, but Lily could feel his attention sharpen beside her.
Rhett gave a crooked smile, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“I always figured Bobby Ray had eyes for the wrong sister. Hannah never gave him the time of day. Polite, sure, but nothing more. Margo though…” He gave a small pause, the grin turning meaner.
“Wouldn’t have surprised me if she took Bobby Ray’s dick for a test drive. ”