Chapter Nine
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Lily stood in front of the digital evidence board, arms crossed tight, eyes fixed on the newest addition—the photo.
Hannah. Kissing Bobby Ray.
Her mind kept circling it like a vulture over something already dead, but no matter how many times she stared at the image, she couldn’t tell whether it was truth… or manipulation.
Behind her, Griff sat at the desk, phone to his ear as he spoke quietly to someone at the lab about the photo and the ones that’d been left outside of Everett’s office. Griff’s tone was clipped, focused, every word weighed.
They’d showered in the breakroom an hour ago, one after the other, fast and silent, washing off ash, sweat, and the faint smell of smoke that clung even through the scalding water.
She’d changed into clean clothes from the backup stash Hallie had brought, her movements mechanical as she’d also tried to wash away the shock and the spent adrenaline.
She’d managed to rid herself of the stench from the fire, but not the last two. They were still hanging on.
So was the frustration.
It was mid-afternoon now, edging toward the end of their shift, but there was no winding down. Not with everything still pressing in.
Her temples throbbed.
They were no closer than they’d been that morning before the shots, before the photo, before the rush through cold woods chasing a ghost.
She blinked hard and tried to focus on the board, on the facts, but the images hit without warning, sharp and fast. Of the fire. Of those bullets slamming all around her. Of the sickening dread she’d felt when she thought she and Griff might die.
Her hand curled around her elbow, grounding herself as a curse burned in the back of her throat. She needed to think. She needed her head clear. Not replaying the fire swallowing her house. Not reliving the sharp, breathless moment Griff pulled her down as bullets tore the air around them.
Because if she lost focus now, if she missed something crucial, Griff could die. She could die.
Whoever was behind this wasn’t done.
And next time, they might not miss.
Griff ended the call with a short “Got it,” slid his phone into his pocket, and crossed the room to stand beside her. He didn’t speak at first, just tapped the digital image of Everett and Hannah on the evidence board, the one that had blown everything wide open.
“The lab confirmed it,” he said. “All the photos are real, including the one we just found of Hannah and Bobby Ray. They were likely taken with a camera phone.”
Lily blinked, absorbing that. “A camera phone? From fifteen years ago?”
Griff nodded. “That’s why they’re grainy. The quality back then wasn’t great to begin with, and whoever had these enlarged them after the fact, probably recently. Lab tech says that based on angles and resolution, the photos were taken from a distance. At least ten yards out.”
She stared at the image, at Everett’s mouth on Hannah’s neck, Hannah’s eyes half-closed. Intimate. Private. As was the photo of Hannah and Bobby Ray. And now on a digital board in a cold case office for everyone to analyze.
“So someone was hiding,” she said. “Watching. Waiting for the moment to snap a shot.”
“Yeah,” Griff said. “Hiding. On purpose. These weren’t taken by accident.”
A cold knot settled in her gut.
“Then the question is…” Lily murmured, eyes narrowing, “why keep them all these years? Or better yet, why take them at all and why use them now?”
Griff tapped the other image on the board. The one they’d found in the woods just after the shots stopped. The one of Hannah kissing Bobby Ray.
“This one,” he said, voice low, “is what I don’t get.”
Lily moved closer, her arms crossed again. The photo had the same grainy texture, the same slightly warped quality from being blown up. Taken from a distance. Not a moment Hannah or Bobby Ray would’ve wanted anyone to see.
But someone had seen it.
And captured it.
“Catherine,” Lily said, thinking aloud. “She could’ve taken it.”
Griff raised a brow.
“She said she suspected Everett was sleeping with Hannah,” Lily went on. “What if she followed them one day? Not to catch him, but to prove Hannah wasn’t loyal either. Show him that the girlfriend he was tossing his marriage away for had her own secret.”
Griff nodded slowly. “Would’ve made it easier for her to keep control.”
“Exactly,” Lily said. “That tracks for Catherine. Cold, calculated, manipulative.”
She stared at the photo a beat longer, then shook her head. “But not the shooting. I can’t see her getting behind a rifle and opening fire on us. It’s too reckless. Too loud.”
Griff’s gaze met hers. “So maybe she didn’t pull the trigger.”
Lily felt the chill set in again, this time deeper. “Maybe she hired someone to do it.”
And to leave the photo behind. A reminder of who held the power. Of how far they were willing to go.
Griff didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he reached out and tapped Margo’s photo on the board.
“She could’ve taken all of the photos,” he said. “And she could’ve pulled the trigger, too.”
Lily nodded slowly, the idea settling into place too easily. “Yeah. Margo’s always been hard to read. There’s bitterness there about Hannah, about this town, maybe about Bobby Ray. If she felt betrayed enough…”
Griff moved his hand again, this time tapping the image of Rhett. “But he could do it, too.”
The chill that passed through Lily wasn’t subtle.
She stared at Rhett’s picture, her mouth suddenly dry. “Out of everyone we’ve talked to,” she murmured, “I could see him doing it. Pulling the trigger. Trying to kill us.” She looked down, her voice tightening. “I saw it in his eyes. That anger. That hate. Not just at the case—at us.”
The memory of it crept back, sharp and real. His glare, the way his body had coiled like he was seconds from snapping. There hadn’t been grief or fear in him, only pride and rage. The memory morphed into full-blown flashbacks.
And she could have sworn she heard the sounds of gunfire. So real. As if it were happening right here, right now.
She shuddered before she could stop herself. And then Griff was there. No hesitation. He pulled her into his arms, one hand at her back, the other resting protectively at her shoulder. Solid. Warm.
Safe.
Lily let her head rest against his shoulder, just for a moment. Just long enough to let the fear pass through her without swallowing her whole.
Lily didn’t move, not right away. She felt the steady rhythm of Griff’s breath, the weight of his arm around her back, the warmth of his body still lingering from the tension of everything they’d faced.
She tilted her head just enough to glance up at him. “You know,” she murmured, “last time you hugged me… we kissed.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, slow, easy, infuriatingly confident. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Their gazes locked. “Maybe I’ll make sure it does,” she countered, the words surprising both of them.
And just like that, she leaned up and kissed him.
It started out slow. Soft. Her lips brushing his like a question, like a test. He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t pull away.
His hand came up to cradle the back of her head, his mouth answering hers with something far deeper, far more certain. The kiss deepened, breath to breath, lips parting. The need that had simmered beneath everything. The danger, the tension, the stolen glances—rose sharp and fast.
He tasted like coffee and heat and adrenaline, and the moment their bodies pressed close, the control snapped.
His hands slid to her waist, drawing her in with a firm pull, and her fingers curled in the front of his shirt. The kiss turned hot, full-blown and consuming, the kind that left no space for thought, only instinct. Only want.
Lily kissed him like she meant it.
Because she did.
The kiss raged on for several more heart-thudding seconds—breathless, consuming, heat curling low in her belly—before Lily finally tore herself away.
She pressed a hand to Griff’s chest to put a little distance between them, even though her body had zero interest in stepping back.
She groaned. “That definitely didn’t help me keep my thoughts about you in check.”
Griff grinned, smug and devastating. “You have thoughts about me?”
She narrowed her eyes, breath still shaky. “Don’t get cocky.”
He leaned in slightly, just enough to whisper, “Too late. Trust me, I have thoughts about you, too.”
Before she could come up with a halfway decent comeback, or admit just how off-track he’d managed to push her, there was a knock at the door. And just like that, the moment was gone.
Lily stepped away from Griff, heart still pounding from the kiss, and turned toward the knock.
Griff opened the door, and Jesse stood there, with Margo right by his side. Margo looked paler than earlier, her jaw tight, her eyes skimming the room like she was bracing for a fight.
“She says she needs to talk to you both,” Jesse let them know.
Lily gave a quick nod. “Thanks, Jesse.”
Griff turned and tapped the control on the laptop. The digital board went dark, the glowing web of names, photos, and red-threaded connections vanishing into a black screen.
But not before Margo saw it.
Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, just enough for Lily to catch it. She’d seen something.
Maybe everything.
Jesse gave Margo one last glance, then stepped back, pulling the door closed behind him.
Margo didn’t move at first. She just stood there, gaze fixed on the blank screen like it might still be flickering in her mind. Then her voice came, tight and slightly breathless. “Where did you get those pictures?”
Lily didn’t answer immediately. She studied Margo’s face, trying to gauge whether it was shock… or guilt.
Lily’s heart was still trying to calm itself after the kiss, but the moment Margo’s gaze landed on the now-black evidence board, a surge of something sharper took hold.
This is it, Lily thought. We might finally be getting somewhere.
She stepped closer, keeping her tone even. “Margo… did you take the photos?”