Chapter 1 #2
"That's exactly what I thought." Maria lowers her voice and her eyes sweep the bar before she continues.
"Tom loved that place. Eleanor did, too.
They built it from nothing together, poured their whole lives into it.
And then she couldn't pack up and leave fast enough after he died. " She pauses. "It makes you wonder."
"Wonder what?"
Maria straightens up, and I can see the shutters closing behind her eyes. "Nothing. It's just sad, is all. They were good people."
I don't push her. I've learned the hard way when to back off, when to let people sit with their own conclusions without making them feel like they're being interrogated.
Instead, I shift the conversation toward other ranches in the area, asking about cattle prices and land values, the kind of questions that sound like research and nothing more.
Maria relaxes again and we talk for another twenty minutes. I learn the lay of the land, which ranching families are struggling, which ones are holding steady, and who's given up entirely.
"It is sad what happened to the Pritchards," Maria says, wiping down a glass. "But one thing I've noticed is that it's been surprisingly quiet around here since Jesse Hollister came back to town. He took over the old Devil's Acre Ranch and he's been running it his own way."
I keep my expression neutral even though the name hits me like a sucker punch. "Jesse Hollister?"
"Bo Hollister's eldest son. His father was notorious around here, used to run guns through half of Texas.
" She sets the glass down and drops her voice.
"Jesse was gone for years, doing Lord knows what.
But he's been back a while now, and things have been calmer than anyone can remember.
It's a far cry from how it used to be when his daddy was alive. "
I nod and file every word away, then steer the conversation toward the handful of properties that have changed hands over the last few years.
Maria follows my lead willingly enough, but I catch the way she hesitates when certain ranches come up, the way her expression tightens before she moves on to safer ground.
I'm about to ask another question when the skin on the back of my neck prickles.
It's the unmistakable feeling of being watched, the same instinct that kept me alive during undercover assignments.
I don't turn around. Instead, I take a slow sip of my beer and let my gaze drift casually to the mirror behind the bar, using it to scan the room at my back.
He's sitting at a corner table, tucked deep in the shadows. He's a big man with broad shoulders that strain against a dark t-shirt, and I can't make out his features from this distance, but I can feel his attention fixed on me with an intensity that borders on physical.
I shift my focus to Maria, keeping my body language loose even though every nerve in my body is telling me to identify the threat. "Any chance you could recommend a good dinner spot around here? Somewhere the locals actually go, not the tourist traps."
Maria studies me for a moment, and I wonder if she can sense the tension I'm working so hard to hide behind my easy posture.
"The Iron Horse Grill does a mean ribeye, and they source all their beef locally.
Or if you want something lighter, the Peach Tree Café has the best schnitzel this side of Austin.
" She wipes down the bar in front of me.
"You planning to stick around Fredericksburg for a while? "
"Depends on how work goes." I finish my beer, forcing myself not to look toward the corner where that steady gaze is still pressing against me.
"Thanks, Maria." I pull out cash and leave it on the bar. "I appreciate you taking the time to talk."
"Anytime, Sarah. You come back, okay?" She takes the money and gives me a look that says more than her words do. "And be careful asking too many questions about certain things around here. That kind of curiosity makes people nervous."
I nod and head for the door. His eyes follow me the whole way, and I can feel the weight of his attention tracking across my back with every step I take.
The hairs along my neck rise and my skin tightens with awareness.
I keep my gaze forward and deny him even a glance, but there is no pretending he isn't there.
His focus stays with me all the way to the door.
The night air hits me as I step outside, and I shiver despite the lingering Texas warmth.
I walk the three blocks back to the safe house, checking my surroundings out of habit and training.
No one follows me. The streets are quiet, with most of the shops along Main Street already dark for the evening.
Inside, I lock the door, check every window, and pull out my burner phone. Uncle Robert answers on the second ring.
"You made it."
"I made it." I drop onto the couch and run a hand through my hair.
"I stopped in town and talked to a bartender named Maria.
She confirmed everything in your file about Tom Pritchard's death.
The sheriff ruled it accidental after barely an hour on scene, and the widow sold the ranch almost immediately and left town. "
"Did she give you anything beyond that?"
"Not directly, but she's sitting on more than she's saying.
I could see it. She warned me to be careful about asking too many questions around here.
" I hesitate for a second, weighing how much to share.
"She also told me that Jesse Hollister is back in town.
Apparently he took over the Devil's Acre Ranch and has been keeping things quiet. "
There's a brief silence on the other end, the kind that tells me he already knew. "Noted. What else?"
"There was a man in the bar watching me the entire time I was there."
"Description?"
"Big, probably over six feet, broad through the shoulders. He was sitting in the back corner where the light didn't reach, so that's all I could get without being obvious about looking."
Uncle Robert grunts. "Keep a low profile. If someone's already paying attention to you on your first night, you need to tighten up." His voice carries a tension that wasn't there before.
"I was careful."
"How are you holding up?" His tone softens.
"I'm fine."
"Raven."
"I can do this, Uncle Robert. I wouldn't be here if I couldn't."
He sighs, and I can picture him sitting in his office at Shadowland headquarters, surrounded by screens and intelligence feeds, trying to balance his concern for me against his respect for the fact that I'm not a child anymore.
"Call me tomorrow with updates. And Raven? If anything feels wrong, you get out of there and head straight to me. Don't try to be a hero."
The line goes dead, and I sit alone in the dark house, turning over everything Maria told me.
Tom Pritchard's death, Eleanor selling so fast, the way Maria's face tightened when certain families came up in conversation.
The pieces are all sitting in front of me, but they haven't arranged themselves into a pattern yet.
And then there's Jesse Hollister. I don't want to think about him, not tonight, not when I'm this tired and raw.
I shower and climb into bed. The mattress is too soft and the pillows are too flat, but I'm exhausted enough that none of it matters. I close my eyes and try to quiet the noise in my head.
Instead, I see a man watching me from across a dimly lit bar. There was something about him that tugged at me, something familiar that I couldn't place no matter how hard I tried.
Sleep pulls me under before I can find the answer, and the last thing I'm aware of is the memory of his gaze and the way his presence seemed to fill every shadow in the room.