Chapter Five #2
Lily’s stomach turned, and not from the crudeness. From the shift in his tone. Because buried beneath the words was something else.
Bitterness. Or maybe jealousy.
Griff shifted beside her, voice calm but direct. “Was there anything about that—Bobby Ray and Margo—in the case file? Police reports?”
Rhett’s smirk vanished. “No,” he said, his voice sharp. “I don’t put gut feelings in reports. Only facts.”
“Sometimes gut feelings turn into leads,” Griff replied with a casual shrug.
Rhett scowled. “There were no leads necessary. Bobby Ray killed Hannah. End of story. And a jury agreed.”
“That doesn’t mean the jury got it right,” Lily was quick to point out. “Or the people who brought the case to trial.”
Rhett’s expression darkened. “Are you questioning my work?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I’m questioning everything.”
Lily turned toward her desk, flipping open the cold case folder. Her fingers found the photo quickly, the one someone had left on her SUV. The one showing Hannah, lifeless and bloodied, her body crumpled in the leaves by the creek. She held it out.
“This,” Lily said, her voice low and steady, “was left for me last night. With a warning to back off.”
Rhett stared at the photo, and for a moment, Lily thought he might actually tear it in half. His expression twisted. Shock, rage, something else. Before he shoved back from the chair, unsteady on his feet but too proud to ask for help.
“That can’t be real,” he muttered.
“It is,” she verified. “And it’s proof that someone doesn’t want the truth coming out.”
Rhett looked at her like she’d set fire to the past. And Lily didn’t look away.
Lily kept her gaze locked on Rhett as she continued to hold up the photo. “This wasn’t in the case file. Not anywhere.”
Rhett’s eyes flicked to the image again, but he said nothing. The muscles in his jaw bunched and shifted like he was grinding down every word that wanted to come out. A long beat passed before he finally spoke.
“I have no idea where that came from.”
But he didn’t sound convinced. Not even close.
Then he added, “Maybe someone witnessed the murder. Took the picture. Maybe Bobby Ray did it himself. Hell… maybe Margo did.”
Lily choked back a groan. It felt like he was throwing darts with a blindfold on.
Griff’s voice came cool and sharp. “Those gut feelings again?”
That did it.
Rhett stood fast, eyes blazing, and went toe to toe with Griff. He was smaller, wirier, but the fury in him burned hot enough to make up for the size difference. He jabbed a finger toward Griff’s chest, not quite touching him, but close enough.
“You think this is a game?” Rhett hissed. “You think I spent twenty years busting my ass in this town just to have it pissed on by some outsider with a badge and a theory?”
Griff didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He didn’t need to.
Rhett turned that fury on Lily next. “And you. You think you can waltz back here and start tearing apart my investigation like it’s some puzzle you didn’t get to solve? Don’t dick around with my career. Or my legacy.”
“Your legacy?” she spat out. And she was on the verge of saying that legacy was a piece of shit, that his career was checkered at best and that he should have never been the lead on this murder investigation.
All of that was true. But it would be damn unprofessional of her to spell that out especially when she had no concrete proof that Rhett had indeed botched this case.
Not yet anyway.
But one thing was now crystal clear. Rhett Hale wasn’t just defensive. He was hiding something. Maybe not the murder itself, but something tangled in it. Something he didn’t want exposed. He didn’t want anyone putting his case under a microscope.
But that’s exactly what she was going to do.
The door swung open, and two EMTs strode in with a stretcher and medical packs. They moved toward Rhett, and Lily stepped back, putting some distance between herself and the tension still radiating off Rhett.
She didn’t need to be near him right now. Not with her pulse pounding and every instinct screaming that he was hiding something.
Griff caught her eye and gave a subtle tilt of his head, motioning for her to follow him down the hallway, out of earshot. She didn’t hesitate. They moved past the corner, just out of sight, but Rhett’s gaze followed them. She could feel it burning into her back.
A moment later, Hallie joined them, arms folded across her chest, her sharp eyes flicking between the two of them. “Well, that went about as smooth as a hornet in a bottle,” she muttered.
Lily gave a humorless huff, still trying to steady her breathing.
Hallie’s tone dropped into something more controlled, focused. “If the EMTs clear him, I’ll bring Rhett into interview and get everything he just said on record. All of it.”
Lily nodded, grateful. “You think he’s lying?”
“I think he’s leaving out more than he’s saying,” Hallie replied. Then, under her breath, she added, “Legacy,” like the word itself tasted sour.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough. A flicker of solidarity. Proof she wasn’t the only one who saw through Rhett’s bravado and bluster.
Hallie turned her attention back to business.
“While I deal with him, maybe the two of you can go have a chat with Everett Langston. He’s the only other person of interest from the original investigation.
If he knows anything, now’s the time to see what shakes loose.
” She checked the time. “He should be at his office by now.”
Lily nodded, and Griff made a sound of agreement as they headed to their desks to get their coats. They had a direction now. And more than ever, Lily was ready to chase it.
“Keep an eye out for our shooter,” Hallie added, but Lily heard the hesitation in her voice. Maybe because Hallie, too, was considering that Rhett’s injury had been self-inflicted.
Lily followed Griff out the side exit of the station, her eyes automatically sweeping the lot.
Griff was doing the same. Quiet, watchful.
The cold hit her first, crisp and biting against her skin, the kind of morning chill that dug in deep.
Her breath puffed in front of her as they paused just outside the door.
Her SUV sat where they’d left it. The tires had been replaced.
Clean, full, no signs of the slashing from last night.
The mechanic was gone, but the Strike Force tech was still there, crouched near one of the new camera mounts on the back corner of the building.
He gave Griff a nod, then went back to wiring.
The lot was quiet otherwise. Definitely no sign of a shooter or someone ready to set another fire.
They didn’t linger. Climbing into her SUV, Lily started the engine, the warmth of the heater slowly kicking in. Griff slid into the passenger seat, his gaze still scanning the street through the windshield as she pulled out.
Everett Langston’s office was only six blocks away, close enough they might have walked on any other day. But not today. Not with her SUV already targeted, not with threats hanging over her head, and definitely not with Rhett bleeding in their bullpen from a shot fired just up the road.
They drove in silence at first, the streets of Outlaw Ridge slowly waking up around them.
Most of the storefronts on Main Street had their lights on now, windows glowing warm behind frosted glass.
A bakery opened its door just as they passed, releasing a wisp of steam and the scent of cinnamon into the air.
A few early risers were moving along the sidewalks, shoulders hunched, coats zipped high. Fewer than there would be if it weren’t so cold, but the town was still alive and moving.
Lily turned down the street where Everett Langston’s auto dealership sat, the lot sprawling wide across the corner like it owned the block. Rows of gleaming trucks lined the curb.
Just past the lot stood his main office building.
Sleek, modern, all steel and tinted glass, a sharp contrast to the rustic charm of the rest of Main Street.
The polished black sign near the entrance read Langston Holdings in bold, brushed-metal letters—clean, corporate, and designed to impress. Or intimidate.
As Lily pulled into the parking lot in front of Langston Holdings, the first thing she noticed were the papers.
Dozens of them.
They were scattered across the pavement and grass, fluttering like windblown leaves caught in the morning breeze. Some skated across the lot. Others were tangled in the hedges near the sidewalk.
She eased the SUV to a stop, her brows drawing together. “What the hell…”
“Someone drop a file?” Griff asked quietly.
“Maybe,” she muttered, but her gut was already telling her this wasn’t accidental.
They stepped out, the cold biting at her skin again as the wind caught another sheet and sent it tumbling toward them. Before they even stepped away from her SUV, they both glanced around, looking for the shooter. Checking for a threat. But she didn’t see anyone.
Lily bent to pick up one of the papers, flipping it over. And froze. It wasn’t a page from a file.
It was a photograph.
Hannah Cole. Smiling. Close up. A little grainy, like it had been taken from a distance or blown up from something small. Her head tilted back in a laugh.
Another gust of wind rolled one to Griff’s feet. He picked it up and stared, his expression tightening.
Lily turned slowly, taking in the others now, scattered like a breadcrumb trail. The photos weren’t all the same, but they told the same story.
Hannah, looking into the camera. Hannah, climbing into the passenger seat of a car. Hannah, pressed up against Everett Langston behind the dealership, his mouth at her neck, his hands on her waist.
Lily’s breath caught.
She reached for another photo, her fingers suddenly cold for an entirely different reason. Not just rumors anymore.
These were proof.
It was definitely time for them to have a word with Everett Langston.
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