Chapter 4 Lennon
FOUR
LENNON
The office usually feels like home. It has a scent that usually wraps me in its arms like a hug. Today, it feels like a cage. Every time the floorboards creak or a car engine revs on the street outside, my shoulders tense, and I look either behind me or out that window.
Shawn is pacing the small space behind his desk, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He stops abruptly, taking another look at Carson’s shirt I’m wearing.
“Are you okay staying out there with him?” Shawn asks, his voice tight. “With Carson? How long do you plan on doing this, Len? You know the Nelsons aren’t exactly low-profile. I wish you would’ve gotten a flat tire anywhere other than there.”
Me too. Me fucking too. I lean back against the cold metal of a filing cabinet, pulling the oversized shirt tighter around me. The scent of sandalwood and leather is still there, faint but enough to give me a feeling of safety.
“I feel safer with him than I do with anyone else right now,” I admit. I’ve spent my life building walls, and here I am, seeking shelter in a house built by a man who could tear them all down with a single look. “I’ll stay as long as I have to. Until we know for sure who pulled that trigger.”
Shawn sighs, nodding slowly. “Fair enough. If you’re sure.”
He turns to the desk and picks up a thick, unmarked manila envelope. The atmosphere in the room shifts instantly. This is it, the reason I was shot at on a dark stretch of road last night. He slides the contents out onto the desk, spreading them across the mahogany surface.
I step forward, my breath hitching in my throat. I’ve seen the reports. I’ve read the depositions. But I haven’t seen the evidence. I haven’t wanted to look, but now that this is touching me the way it is, I know I have to.
The first photograph hits me like a physical blow.
It’s a woman, her face swollen beyond recognition, one eye purple and shut tight.
Beside that photo is another—a young boy, maybe six or seven years old, with a split lip and a bruise blooming across her cheek.
They look beaten to hell. They look broken.
“I’ve never seen these,” I whisper, my hand trembling as I reach out to touch the edge of the glossy paper. He knows I haven’t, but I feel the need to say it anyway.
“The digital files were encrypted, and the hard copies were buried in a locker,” Shawn says, his voice dropping an octave.
“Lennon, look at me. What we’re doing here…
it’s dangerous. Last night was a warning.
These pictures are the reality of who we’re dealing with.
If you want out, you get out now. No questions asked.
I’ll handle the fallout. I’ll make sure you have a job when this is done, but I’ll lay you off until then. ”
I stare at the little boy’s eyes in the photo. They are filled with a hollow, haunted look that I know far too well.
Suddenly, the office walls vanish. I’m ten years old again, standing in a kitchen that smells like burnt toast and cheap whiskey. I can hear the rhythmic, wet thud of my father’s fist hitting my mother’s side. I can hear Atlee’s muffled sobs from behind the sofa.
My father turned, his face a mask of blind, drunken rage, and stepped toward the couch where my little sister was cowering.
I didn’t think. I just moved. I threw myself in front of her, screaming for him to stop.
I remember the sensation of the air leaving the room, the blur of his arm, and then the explosion of white light as his fist connected with my jaw.
I remember the metallic taste of blood and the ringing in my ears, but mostly, I remember the relief that it was me and not Atlee.
I blink, and I’m back in the office. My jaw aches with a ghost of that old pain. Reaching up, I rub the ache that used to be there more often than not.
“I’m in,” I say, my voice steady and cold. “I’m not going anywhere, Shawn.”
He watches me for a long beat, measuring my resolve. Finally, he nods. “It’s going to shock you. The man that the woman in these pictures is married to…he isn’t just some low life.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him, squaring my shoulders. “I’m ready for it. Just tell me.”
Shawn picks up the main file and hands it to me. My heart hammers against my ribs as I flip open the cover. My eyes scan the name at the top of the personal history report.
Subject: Reagan, Thomas.
I freeze. My brain tries to make sense of the words on the page. “Sheriff Reagan?” I breathe. “Noah Sanchez’s boss?”
“The very same,” Shawn says grimly. “The man who is supposed to be enforcing the law in this county is the one who’s been systematically destroying his family and using his position to cover the tracks of anyone who helps him.
That’s why Sanchez was so confident. That’s why Watershed happened.
It goes all the way to the top of the badge. ”
The pieces of the puzzle click into place. “This is why they have to be careful,” I mutter, looking at the photos again. The sheriff isn’t just a powerful man. He’s the law.
“Exactly,” Shawn agrees. “And it’s why we need to keep this strictly between ourselves. We don’t know who else in the department is on his payroll. If word gets out that we have these files before we can get them to a federal prosecutor, we’re dead. Both of us.”
I go to speak, but the sound of a heavy engine rumbling outside cuts me off. I glance toward the window. Carson’s black dually pulls up to the curb, looking like a tank in the late afternoon sun.
“He’s here,” I say, a rush of conflicting emotions flooding my chest. It’s a whole bunch of relief, guilt, and a desperate need to be near him.
“Close it,” Shawn commands. “I don’t like to have it open.”
I slam the file shut and slide it back into the envelope, watching as Shawn places it into a hidden compartment in his desk. I take a deep breath, trying to smooth out the lines on my face and hide the horror I just witnessed.
“See you tomorrow,” I call out over my shoulder, grabbing my bag and heading for the door.
I walk out into the crisp air, my eyes locking onto Carson through the windshield.
He looks alert and like he’s the steadiness I’ve been craving my entire life.
I don’t have to be the one who is calm in situations anymore.
He’s there for me the way I’ve been there for everyone else. He looks like safety.
But as I walk toward the truck, the weight of the secret that was just shared with me feels like a vest people use to work out in.
I’m heading back to the ranch, but I’m carrying a secret that could burn this whole town to the ground.