Chapter Sixteen
───── ? ────
The smell of fried chicken and cornbread filled the kitchen, the kind of comforting scent Griff hadn’t realized he needed until now.
He slid the cartons across the table toward Lily, handing her a fork as she settled into the seat across from him.
They’d both showered, both scrubbed off the day—the gunfire, the chaos, the adrenaline—and now, for a little while at least, they were sitting down like everything wasn’t still on fire around them.
Almost everything.
The heat between them hadn’t cooled. If anything, it hummed hotter now, quiet and steady under the surface, rising with every glance and brush of a hand.
She hadn’t pulled away. Hadn’t put up walls or tried to explain it away as a mistake.
And Griff wasn’t seeing even a flicker of regret in her eyes.
He didn’t have any either.
But he also wasn’t foolish enough to think they had room to breathe, not with a killer still out there.
They’d come close today. Too close. And someone had sent a gunman into that office with enough firepower to bring down the building. It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Still, as Lily took a bite of her cornbread and let out a low, satisfied sound, he allowed himself to enjoy the moment. The rare calm. Her presence.
“Not bad for diner takeout,” he said, picking up his own fork.
“Not bad at all.” She looked at him, and something flickered in her expression. Warmth, maybe even contentment. “Beats energy bars and murder boards.”
“Barely,” he said with a wry smile.
She smiled back. And despite everything, despite the danger, the questions still swirling, Griff felt something solid settle in his chest.
It wasn’t peace. But maybe it was the start of something close.
Griff was halfway through his chicken when his phone started buzzing on the table. He wiped his fingers on a napkin and reached for it. “Probably Jesse with an update on Everett’s interview,” he muttered to Lily.
But when he looked at the screen, he felt his jaw muscles tighten. “It’s Everett,” he said.
Lily paused mid-bite, eyebrows lifting. “What the heck does he want?”
“No idea.” Griff answered the call and tapped speaker. “Langston?”
Everett’s voice came through, low and anxious. “Someone’s going to kill me,” the man blurted.
Griff leaned back, sharing a glance with Lily. “Aren’t you supposed to be in an interview at the police station right about now?”
“It’s finished. Over and done more than an hour ago. And I said no comment to everything,” Everett snapped. “Didn’t give them anything. And they weren’t thrilled, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Griff sighed. He could already imagine the frustration on Hallie’s face.
“Why not just tell the truth?” Griff asked. “It’d be easier than letting everyone think you’ve got something to hide.”
“Because the truth doesn’t protect you. It gets twisted. Used against you. Look at Rhett. Look at Margo. It’s all over town they’re going to be arrested. And they probably will be.”
Griff exchanged another glance with Lily. “Where are you hearing that?”
Everett gave a harsh laugh. “You think Outlaw Ridge keeps secrets for long? It wasn’t from your people—I’ll give you that much. But word spreads fast. And everyone’s already whispering that Margo killed Catherine.”
Griff tensed, every instinct on alert. “Why would they think that?”
“Because Margo blames Catherine for Hannah’s death and they figure Catherine helped Rhett frame Bobby Ray.”
“Did she?” Griff was quick to ask.
“For fuck’s sake, I don’t know. You think Catherine told me everything she did? Well, she didn’t,” Everett snapped before giving Griff a chance to reply. “She was always wheeling and dealing, and Rhett or Margo could have killed her.”
“You could have, too,” Griff pointed out. “And you could have killed Hannah. We know you didn’t have an alibi for the time of her murder.”
Everett cursed again. “See? This is why I told the sheriff and deputy no comment. Things get twisted.”
“Then, why call me and risk that?” Griff snapped.
“Because if someone kills me, I want you to arrest Margo and Rhett because sure as hell, one of them, or somebody they hired, is gunning for me.”
Maybe. Or it was possible Everett was just blowing smoke, trying to make himself look like a victim. Instead of a killer.
“Why do you think your wife was killed?” Griff came out and asked, figuring he wouldn’t get a straight answer from Everett.
Everett cursed. “The sheriff said Catherine was paying Rhett hush money, that Rhett knew about…my friendship with Hannah.”
“Your affair with Hannah,” Griff corrected.
The man made a sound that could have meant anything. “You asked why Catherine was killed, and I’m telling you. Because of that damn hush money.”
Maybe. But that brought Griff back to his earlier question of why would Rhett have killed the woman who was paying him? It was possible Catherine was on the verge of nixing the payments and that Rhett had either killed her himself or hired the thug to do it.
But Everett could have been the one to kill her.
Those photos in the parking lot could have spurred the argument from hell between them, and if Catherine had said she was no longer going to hide his secret affair, that was motive to kill her. Because admitting to the affair gave Everett motive to have murdered Hannah.
Too bad Griff didn’t know if those scenarios were true.
“Where are you now?” Griff asked Everett.
“No way I’m telling you that,” the man shot back. “I don’t trust the cops. One of you could be helping Rhett. For all I know, you’ll lead him right to me.”
Griff’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.
“Just remember,” Everett said, his voice rising, “I warned you. Someone’s gunning for me. And if they succeed, it’s your damn fault. Do your job. Arrest a killer before he or she gets to me.”
Then the line went dead.
Lily let out a slow breath, setting her fork down as the silence settled between them. Then she muttered, “The man doth protest too much.”
Griff huffed a dry laugh. “Yeah. Either he’s trying to cover his tracks… or he’s just an asshole by nature.”
She arched a brow. “Could be both.”
“Could be.” Griff tapped out a quick text to Hallie, letting her know about Everett’s call—his paranoia and the accusations.
He hit send, then leaned back in his chair, staring at his now-cold dinner. “If Everett is innocent of Catherine’s and Hannah’s murders, he’s doing a shit job of acting like it.”
Lily leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “And if he’s guilty, he’s doing a great job of faking fear.”
Griff’s phone buzzed on the table, the sharp vibration cutting clean through the quiet tension hanging in the kitchen. He grabbed it, already expecting Hallie or Jesse again. When he saw Jesse’s name flash across the screen, he answered and put it on speaker.
“Sorry to interrupt your downtime,” Jesse said, his voice tense. “But there’s something you two are gonna want to know. Margo’s bio son, Caleb Davidson, has been reported missing by his adoptive parents.”
Griff’s breath froze in his chest, and some really bad scenarios started to fly through his head. “When?”
“About a half hour ago. Just saw the Amber Alert hit the system.”
Lily’s fork dropped to her plate with a soft clatter. “Oh my God.”
Griff pushed his chair back from the table, adrenaline already firing again through his veins. “Did he run away?”
Jesse blew out a breath. “Parents don’t think so. Said he’s a solid kid. Respectful, no behavioral issues, never done anything like this. No warning signs.”
Lily shot Griff a look. “You think Margo took him?”
Griff rubbed a hand down his face, processing fast. “Or Everett. Or Rhett. If someone’s feeling the walls closing in…”
Jesse picked up the thread. “Then yeah. Grabbing the kid could be leverage. Or insurance.”
Lily’s expression was already shifting, the professional mode locking in. “Any sign of where Caleb might be?”
“None yet,” Jesse answered. “They’re starting a grid search around the Davidson house now. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks,” Griff said. “Call us the second you get anything.”
He ended the call, the weight of what Jesse had said hanging in the air between them.
“They took him,” Lily murmured, eyes dark. “Someone did.”
Griff nodded. “Question is… what the hell do they want with him now?”
Lily didn’t get a chance to answer because there was another sound of an incoming text. Not on his phone this time but on hers. Griff watched as Lily’s eyes flicked down to the screen, her posture shifting from tense to rigid in the space of a heartbeat.
He was already on alert before she even spoke.
“It’s a text,” she said, her voice tight. “Unknown number.”
He moved to her side as she angled the screen so he could see it too.
You should have stayed out of it. Photo attached. If you want to save him, destroy the entire file on Hannah Cole’s murder and stop digging. You’ve got one hour to officially declare the case closed. We want proof. Make it public. Or the kid dies.
Griff’s gut twisted as he took in the photo. It was Caleb, clearly terrified, with duct tape across his mouth, and his arms and ankles bound with zip ties. He was sitting on a concrete floor. There was a dim bulb overhead and nothing else. No windows, no landmarks to tell them where he was.
But he was alive.
For now.
A cold, hard fury burned in Griff’s chest as he stared at the image of Caleb bound and terrified. “They’re using him,” he said, voice like gravel. “Trying to shut us down before we get too close.”
Lily didn’t answer right away. She pressed her phone to her chest, like holding it might keep her heart from shattering. The weight of the photo settled between them, one brutal truth echoed in his head.
How the hell were they going to find Caleb in time?
───── ? ────