Brenna parked in the lot beside the sheriff’s office and stepped out into the sun. She waited for Colt to join her, then led the way up the steps and through the double doors. Inside, they showed their IDs to a deputy who allowed them to bypass a metal detector before entering the main area. It was clean, utilitarian, and smelled faintly of coffee and lemon polish. Harlan stood a few feet ahead, talking to a woman in a brown uniform.
The woman turned slightly, revealing a gold badge and a sharp, assessing gaze that landed directly on them.
Sheriff Arden Chase. No doubt about it.
Harlan waved them over. “Sheriff, this is Colt Morgan and Brenna Keane with Crossfire Ops.”
“Appreciate you coming in,” the sheriff said with a firm nod. She had a clipped tone and a no-nonsense stance that made it clear she didn’t have time for fluff. “We’re about to start the interview.”
Harlan looked at Colt. “How’re you holding up?”
“I’m fine,” Colt said, though Brenna could tell by the tightness in his jaw that the pain was still there. He shifted slightly, like standing still too long made the bruise flare hotter.
Colt turned to the sheriff. “Has Naomi said anything that could help us find Wallace Kemp?”
Sheriff Chase shook her head. “Just the opposite. She’s insisting she has no idea where he is. Her lawyer’s already balking about police harassment. Says his client is a victim.” Shearched a brow and added with thick sarcasm, “Should make for a pleasant conversation.”
Brenna exchanged a glance with Colt, who didn’t look the least bit surprised.
They followed the sheriff down a short hallway, past bulletin boards filled with wanted posters and community notices. At the end was a small observation room with a narrow window of two-way glass. Through it, Brenna saw Naomi Darnell seated at a table, her face pale but composed. Across from her sat a man in a navy suit, his arms crossed and his jaw tight. Definitely her lawyer.
Sheriff Chase was reaching for the interview room door when footsteps pounded down the hallway behind them. They all turned as a young man appeared, breathless and clearly flustered.
He looked mid-twenties, lanky but wiry, with curly brown hair that stuck to his forehead like he’d been running for a while. His khakis were wrinkled, and he had a messenger bag slung across his chest. His wide eyes darted from the sheriff to Naomi behind the glass.
“I’m Naomi’s assistant,” he said between gasps. “Jared Tripp. I need to speak to her right away.”
Sheriff Chase narrowed her eyes. “Can it wait? She’s about to be interviewed.”
Jared shook his head, still panting. “No. It’s urgent.”
Naomi must have heard her assistant’s voice because the interview room door practically flew open. “Jared? What’s wrong?” Naomi asked.
He didn’t hesitate. He reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper, his hand trembling as he thrust it at her.
“This was taped to your office door. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to call you, but you must have silenced your phone, so I drove right over.”
Naomi snatched the paper and read it. Her lips moved silently for a moment, then she whispered the words aloud.
“Since you didn’t pay the price, since you were rescued by those perverting the cause of justice, your assistant, Jared Tripp, will pay instead. One way or another, justice will be served.”
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Chapter Nine
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Colt stared at the note, the scrawled handwriting jagged and angry across the page. It said exactly what Naomi said.
That the killer was threatening Jared since Naomi had escaped death.
Sheriff Chase stepped in beside them and took one look. “No one else touches the note,” she ordered. “I’ll get an evidence bag.” She turned and strode down the hall.
Colt didn’t need to touch it. He could already feel the weight of it pressing in.
He glanced at Brenna. The flicker of doubt in her eyes told him she was thinking the same thing he was. Harlan, too. His jaw was locked tight.
“Why leave a note and not just take Jared?” Harlan asked, voice quiet but edged with suspicion.
