Brenna lifted her shoulder. “Naomi says the story grabbed her and won’t let go.”
Harlan gave a grunt from the back seat. “That sounds like obsession.”
“It is,” Brenna verified. “She thinks something was missed. She’s convinced there’s more to what happened that day. And now with the new killings… she’s not going to back off.”
Colt kept his eyes on the road but filed that away. Anyone that fixated was either going to be useful or dangerous. Maybe both.
Brenna hit the speaker button and held the phone between them as Naomi Darnell’s voice crackled to life, sharp with urgency.
“I just heard about Marcus Hartman and Leah Grayson,” the woman blurted. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”
Colt’s pulse kicked harder. He kept his eyes on the road but angled his head slightly toward the phone.
“How did you hear that, Naomi?” Brenna asked. “That hasn’t been made public yet.”
“I got a text,” Naomi said. “From an unknown number. No name, no ID. Just this message. I think the killer sent it.”
Colt and Brenna exchanged a glance, and he saw a mix of both concern and skepticism.
“Read it,” Brenna insisted.
There was a beat of silence, then Naomi’s voice steadied. “It said: ‘You tell your viewers the truth. Justice will not be handed down by cops who protect predators. Or the private security contractors like Strike Force and Crossfire Ops that they hire to clean up their messes. Real justice is coming. One name at a time. The text ended with: ‘Let the world know what justice really looks like. You’re the only one who can.”
Colt silently cursed. It did indeed sound like a message from the killer.
“Sounds like the killer wants a platform,” Brenna said, her voice grim. “And he’s picked you to deliver the message.”
“I want to deliver it,” Naomi was quick to say. “I want to expose the truth about what happened at Timberline, about what’s happening now.” She paused a heartbeat. “Who’s doing this, Brenna? Who killed Marcus and Leah?”
“I don’t know. That’s the truth,” she added when Naomi huffed. “But my advice for you is to report the text to the cops.”
“I don’t trust them,” Naomi blurted. “You know that. And I don’t think you know which of them to trust either.”
Brenna sighed. “This isn’t a matter of trust right now. It’s what you legally have to do. If you conceal something that could have potentially come from a killer, then you could be charged with obstruction.”
That was true. And what Harlan, Brenna, and he were doing now could be construed as that as well. But right now, getting to Wallace was the priority. Everything else could wait.
“All right,” Naomi finally said. “Who do I take the text to?”
Brenna hesitated and clearly had a debate with how to respond. “Just give the info to both San Antonio PD and the Crossfire Creek Sheriff’s Office.”
Colt knew the reason for her hesitation. Brenna wasn’t sure who to trust in those offices, but since the text had to be reported, the news of it would soon get around anyway.
Which was likely what the killer wanted.
Muddying the waters like this created a sort of chaos. Multiple agencies jockeying for position. It would end up making it harder to find this asshole.
“And what about the story he wants me to do?” Naomi asked.
Again, Brenna paused. “Hold off until you talk to the cops,” she finally said before she issued a quick goodbye and ended the call.
“You trust her?” Colt immediately asked.
Brenna’s gaze briefly met his. “I’m not sure.” But then she shook her head. “No, I don’t. If you’re asking if Naomi could have found out about the murders and then sent herself that text, then it’s possible. For her, it’s all about the headlines, about getting the readers. A text from a killer would definitely generate readers.”
It would. And that meant, along with Gary, Naomi was someone else they needed to speak with.
Colt slowed the SUV as they approached the GPS marker, tension coiling tighter in his gut with every foot of ground they covered. The road narrowed into gravel, winding through dense brush. Just ahead, the terrain thickened with post oaks and scrub cedar.
