Chapter Eleven
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Griff’s house was quiet when they stepped inside, the kind of deep, heavy silence that wrapped around Lily’s bones and reminded her just how long the day had been.
He shut the door behind them, the soft click echoing too loudly in the entryway, and she heard the soft taps of his fingers on his app as he armed the security system. She shrugged off her coat and draped it over the back of the couch, then just stood there, letting the stillness press in.
It was near midnight.
Hallie had all but ordered them to go home and get some rest. Lily hadn’t argued. Not out loud. But the weight in her chest said otherwise. She needed rest—mercy, did she need it—but she also wanted to keep working. She and Griff had been chasing shadows all day, and they still hadn’t caught one.
And Griff… she knew he felt the same. He hadn’t said much on the drive back to his place, but every line in his face had shouted frustration.
They had a long day ahead of them, too. Rhett had lawyered up the second Hallie called him in, so his interview was on the books for morning. Everett would be coming in, too.
It was going to be a full day.
They’d need to be sharp.
But right now, Lily felt anything but. She couldn’t bring herself to move past the living room. Couldn’t make herself head toward the guest room. Her feet stayed rooted to the floor. Her muscles ached from adrenaline. Her heart still beat faster than it should have.
She exhaled slowly, not sure what she was waiting for.
Then she felt Griff’s presence at her back. He stepped in close, his warmth sliding against her like it had every right to be there. He didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest.
Lily let herself sink into him, closing her eyes, her fingers curling into the front of his shirt. No words. No plans. Just this. Just him.
Lily let out a low murmur against his chest, her cheek pressed to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“Close contact like this is risky,” she mumbled. “After that kiss earlier.”
Griff didn’t answer at first, just held her tighter.
“Well… not risky,” she added, voice even softer. “Not like we’re going to jump into kissing and sex tonight. We’re both too tired for that.”
He chuckled, low and warm. “We’re never too tired for sex.”
But the kiss he pressed to the top of her head wasn’t a tease. It wasn’t a lead-in to anything more.
It was comfort. Steadying.
The kind of gesture that slipped beneath defenses and didn’t ask for anything in return.
Lily exhaled and turned in his arms, pressing her front to his, her hands sliding up to rest against his chest. His mouth was within reach now, and the ache that had been coiled inside her since that first kiss earlier bloomed again. Quiet, hungry, alive.
She leaned in, brushing her lips over his.
Just a touch.
But the heat sparked instantly—more than a simmer, less than a blaze. A thread of something real pulled taut between them. She let herself hover there for a breath, toying with the notion of deepening it, of letting go, just a little—
Ping.
Griff’s phone vibrated in his back pocket. He didn’t groan or curse, but she felt the moment shift as he slowly pulled back.
Duty never slept.
And neither, it seemed, did their case.
Griff eased back just enough to reach into his back pocket, still keeping one arm around her like he wasn’t ready to let go entirely. He glanced at the screen, and the faint glow lit up his face—just enough for Lily to catch the flicker of surprise in his eyes.
“It’s from Jesse,” he said. “Apparently, he’s not following Hallie’s orders to get some rest either.”
Lily arched a brow. “Guess that makes three of us.”
Griff didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed locked on the message, his expression sharpening as he read.
“What?” she asked, heart suddenly thudding a little faster.
He turned the phone toward her. “During the deep dive Jesse’s been doing on Margo… he found something. Margo has a son.”
Lily blinked. “A son?”
“Yeah.” Griff’s voice dropped. “He’s fourteen. Born seven and a half months after Hannah was murdered.”
The weight of that settled fast and hard, but before Lily could speak, Griff swiped the screen and pulled up the image Jesse had attached. The photo was a school headshot—clean backdrop, cropped close.
And Lily felt the air leave her lungs.
The boy had shaggy dark hair, wide-set eyes, and a jawline that was too familiar. She didn’t even need to say it. Griff did it for her.
“He looks just like Bobby Ray.”
The boy certainly did. Lily couldn’t stop staring at the photo, her brain locking up for a beat as it tried to rewire everything they thought they knew. She dragged in a breath, her fingers tightening around Griff’s wrist, where he still held the phone.
“Why didn’t this come up in the background check we ran on Margo?” she asked, her voice low, tight.
Griff blew out a long breath. “Because she doesn’t have custody of him. He was adopted.”
Lily’s head snapped toward him. “Adopted?”
“Yeah. Jesse found the paperwork. The boy’s name is Caleb Davidson, and he lives in San Antonio. Margo is listed as the birth mother on the adoption paperwork. Father’s name is listed as unknown.”
Lily felt the shift in her chest, that sharp snap of realization that cut through exhaustion.
“What if she found out she was pregnant, told Bobby Ray and he rejected her?” she threw out there.
Griff nodded slowly, catching the rhythm of her thoughts. “What if Margo saw him with Hannah? That kiss? Maybe it wasn’t staged to manipulate Everett. Maybe it was real. At least on Bobby Ray’s part.”
Lily felt the chill move through her.
“Margo could’ve snapped,” she whispered. “Jealous. Hurt. Angry. What if she killed Hannah, then used everything she had—those photos, her knowledge of Bobby Ray’s feelings—to frame him?”
It fit.
The bitterness in Margo’s voice whenever she talked about her sister. The strange mix of grief and contempt. Her evasiveness. The years of silence. The secret child.
“She had the motive,” Lily said. “And the opportunity.”
Lily paced a slow line across the living room, her arms folded tight over her chest. Her mind was moving too fast to shut down now, even though her body ached for sleep.
Griff leaned against the door, watching her the way he always did—quietly, carefully, taking in more than he ever said out loud.
“What if Catherine found out Margo killed Hannah?” he finally asked.
That got her attention. Lily stopped pacing and turned to him.
“Maybe instead of Catherine turning her in, they formed some kind of alliance,” he went on. “Catherine wanted Hannah out of Everett’s life. If she learned Margo did the job for her… maybe she kept her close. Maybe even paid her.”
Lily rubbed at the back of her neck. “That’s possible. Especially if Catherine saw it as solving her problem. She could’ve rationalized keeping it quiet. And if she was willing to pay off Rhett to frame Bobby Ray, what’s one more secret?”
Griff nodded. “But maybe it didn’t last. Maybe something changed between them. A falling-out.”
Lily picked up the thread. “And Margo killed Catherine to shut her up. Or maybe Catherine threatened to expose her if she was losing control of everything else.”
It fit. But it also left them with too many variables.
“One of them could’ve slashed my tires,” she said, her voice lower now, more focused. “Any of them could’ve started the fire. That doesn’t take much.” “But the shooting,” she added, “that’s different. That takes skill. Access. Nerves.”
Griff pushed off the wall and came to stand beside her. “Rhett has both. We already questioned whether he could’ve staged his own injury.”
She nodded. “He fits.”
“But,” Griff added, “Everett holds a license for three firearms. Registered to his name. From the background check, he likes to hunt. Entertains clients that way. Knows his way around a rifle.”
Lily raised her eyebrows. “Of course he does.”
“And Margo,” Griff said. “No gun license. But Jesse found she completed a firearms training course about seven years ago. And her mother owned both a handgun and a hunting rifle. They were listed in the estate inventory when her mother passed.”
Lily exhaled, her gaze still fixed on the screen. “And now Margo’s been clearing out that house.”
Griff nodded. “Which means she had access.”
Lily’s stomach twisted, not with fear, but with cold certainty. All three of them had motive. All three had secrets. And now, every one of them had the means to kill.
Lily let out a long breath and rolled her shoulders, the tension clinging to her like a second skin.
The weight of what they’d uncovered tonight felt heavier now that they’d laid it all out.
Catherine’s murder, the reemerging secrets, the tangled web of betrayal and silence. It was all still circling in her head.
She yawned before she could stop herself, and Griff caught it immediately.
His lips curved, just barely. “You’re clearly exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” she started to say, but even she didn’t believe it.
He tilted his head, giving her that calm, steady look that didn’t need to say much to make his point.
“You should go to bed,” he said, his voice smooth and coaxing.
Their gazes locked. And for a second, everything else—the murders, the suspects, the unanswered questions—fell away.
She saw the cop in his eyes. The sharp focus. The resolve.
But beneath it, the heat simmered. The kind that had sparked between them more than once now. The kind that hadn’t gone anywhere, no matter how many times they tried to ignore it.
She remembered his mouth on hers. The way his hands had settled on her hips like he belonged there. The way it had felt like he saw her.
Mercy, she wanted more.
She wanted him.
But she wasn’t the only one running on fumes. They were both spent, running on instinct and caffeine, and tomorrow was coming fast with interviews, questions, and a killer to corner.
Lily nodded, finally. “You’re right.”
She turned toward the guest room, pausing just long enough to glance back at him. “Sleep now,” she said quietly. “Then we catch the bastard.”
Griff nodded once. No smile this time. Just agreement.
And something in his eyes that promised, when this was over, they’d finish what that kiss started.
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