This case was long and narrow. I unlocked it. The hinge squeaked, and I peered inside.
Light caught against dark metal.
Technically, this rifle was still US government property. But at the end, I’d been a ghost. The things I’d done had no official government sanction and would’ve been disavowed. After that final mission, my superiors had hardly been concerned about checking my rifle back into inventory.
I traced my fingers over the metal. The unrelenting cold seeped into my skin, yet even now, it felt like coming home. Like seeing an old friend again.
I hated that feeling.
Owen had it wrong. Deep down, I was still Bullseye. A killer. I could never wash away my sins enough to deserve Keira’s love.
The best I could offer her was vengeance.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Keira
“I wishI had better news for you,” Owen said through the phone.
I pulled a blanket over my lap, wedging myself between the couch cushions. “There’s nothing else we can do? You’re sure?”
“Afraid so. Phelan has invoked his right to an attorney and refused to answer any questions, so we can’t interrogate him again. Unless something new turns up to connect him to the shooting, we can’t consider him a suspect.”
I was quiet.
“Keira? You there?”
“Yeah. I’m still here.”
Barely.
It had been almost three weeks since I’d returned home from the hospital. When I’d first been released, I’d stayed at Mom’s house over in Silver Ridge. I was so grateful to Mom for taking time off work to help me, and Stephie had stayed up with me night after night when I couldn’t sleep. I’d still been on plenty of pain meds, constantly exhausted. A stream of well-meaning friends and neighbors had stopped by, sometimes by the hour, to visit or bring food.
The couple of times I’d gone to the station, the other deputies clapped and cheered like I was ahero.
I didn’t feel like a hero. I was a victim. A cop only in name, at least for the time being.
After the sheriff’s department had given the okay and special cleaners came, I was able to return to my own home over Mom’s objections. This wasmyhouse, dammit, and I wouldn’t let anyone scare me away.
Even if I saw demonic faces every time I closed my eyes.
So far, our only person of interest in the shooting was Donny Phelan, the podcaster with the diamond earring and cowboy hat. During my confrontation with him in the roadhouse parking lot that night, I’d told him my name. He could’ve decided to get back at me in the worst way possible.
But Donny Phelan had an alibi for the time of the shooting. He’d been at his property with half a dozen witnesses. He could’ve sent someone else after me, but with Phelan refusing to say another word, we had nothing to go on.
“We’ve been looking into other leads,” Owen said. “Arrests you’ve made in the past. Confrontations with other citizens. Any reason for someone to bear a grudge. We’ll find something. You know how quickly a case can turn around, Keira.”
“Right. I know.” I picked at the lint on the blanket.
“If you remember anything that could help us, anything else about that night, call me.”
“I will.”
The electronic lock on my front door whirred as Brynn let herself in, carrying takeout bags. She waved, and I waved back.
“Thanks, Sheriff,” I said into the phone. “Talk to you later.” Setting my phone on the coffee table, I heaved a sigh.
Brynn set the takeout bags on the kitchen counter. “That was Owen? He had an update for you?” she asked hopefully.
