Naomi blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t know,” she said after a beat. “Maybe they couldn’t get to him. Maybe something scared them off.”
Colt shifted his attention to Jared, who looked like he was seconds from unraveling. His face had gone chalk-white, and his hands trembled at his sides.
“I need protection,” Jared said, his voice cracking. “I don’t want to end up like those other people from Timberline. I don’t want to die.”
Naomi stepped in without hesitation and took his hand. “Nothing’s going to happen to you,” she insisted. “I won’t let it. And they won’t either.”
She turned to Colt, Brenna, and Harlan. Her glare was sharp. “You’re just going to stand there? Do something. Protect him.”
Colt watched the scene unfold in front of him. The fear in Jared’s eyes. The fire in Naomi’s voice. The grip of her hand on his.
It all looked real. Felt real.
But emotion could be faked. Fear could be staged. And killers didn’t always wear the face of a monster. Sometimes they looked like a desperate woman and her trembling assistant.
Colt kept his voice even. “I’m sure the sheriff can arrange protection.”
He didn’t say from what. Or from whom. Because until he had proof, he wasn’t ruling anything out. Not Naomi. Not Jared.
And not the possibility that one or both of them were playing a very dangerous game.
Naomi groaned and leaned against the doorframe, one hand pressed to her temple like the weight of everything had finally crashed down on her.
Her lawyer stepped up behind her, smoothing his tie. “I’ll get the interview rescheduled. She’s in no condition to be questioned right now.”
Colt turned toward him. “The interview isn’t optional. Two people are dead. Another, Wallace Kemp, is still missing. That means every minute counts.”
Naomi’s head snapped up, fire suddenly flaring in her eyes. “Missing?” she spat. “You think Wallace is missing? I don’t believe that. I believe he’s behind this, that he’s the one doing it.”
Colt stiffened. He hadn’t expected that. A glance at Brenna and Harlan told him they hadn’t either.
Brenna narrowed her eyes. “Why do you think that?”
Naomi straightened, her jaw tight. “Because I think Wallace has gone off the rails. He was always obsessed with Timberline. Obsessed with who was responsible. He called me a couple of months ago, ranting about how nothing had been made right. How justice was a lie. And how he knew things no one else did.”
Colt took a step closer, studying her. “What kind of things?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. Just kept going on about secrets. About how he was going to expose everything. He sounded… different. Not like himself. I’ve talked to him multiple times over the years, and he’s never ranted that like.”
Brenna looked skeptical. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
“I didn’t think he’d actually do something,” Naomi snapped, and then she groaned. “I thought he was just angry.” Colt held her gaze. There was a sharp edge to her voice. Conviction. Maybe fear.
Naomi drew in a long breath as if trying to steady herself. “Wallace’s wife left him several months ago, right before he called me. She packed up and walked out because he couldn’t let go of Timberline. It consumed him.”
Colt didn’t respond. Not yet. He was still weighing every word. Just because she believed it didn’t make it true.
The sheriff returned, gloved up, with an evidence bag in hand. She took the note from Jared, gave it a long look, then slid it into the bag and sealed it.
Naomi’s lawyer stepped in again. “My client isn’t in the right frame of mind for an interview. This will have to be rescheduled.”
Naomi nodded and clutched Jared’s arm. “He needs protection. You heard what the note said.”
Jared’s face was pale. “I don’t want to die.” His voice was as shaky as the rest of him.
The sheriff sighed, looked at Colt, Brenna, and Harlan. “I’ll let you know when we reschedule.”
They all left without another word.
