She was right on both counts. Harlan hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he smelled the eggs and bacon, and he accepted the sandwich and the coffee with a grateful nod.
“Thank you,” he added. “For breakfast and for the laundry. You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” Carol said softly. “But I wanted to.”
He tucked the sandwich into one hand, the coffee into the other, and then he leaned down to press a kiss to Evie’s hair. Laney followed with her own hug for her daughter, promisingthey would be back soon. Evie pouted but nodded, already distracted again by her doll.
Garrett rose from where he’d been sitting and followed them toward the front door. His jaw was tight, his eyes scanning the windows even with the blinds drawn. He didn’t say much, but his presence was steady, an anchor.
Garrett’s expression hardened as he pulled the door open for them. “Just got an update from Noah. Still no sign of the shooter or Billy. The blood the CSIs found in the woods belongs to Billy. There wasn’t much, though.”
That meshed with what Harlan had seen. He certainly hadn’t spotted the amount of blood that should have been there if Billy’s wound had been fatal.
“He could have faked being hit and been the one taking those shots at you,” Garrett continued a moment later. “Noah thinks he might have stashed a rifle in those trees across the road and then doubled back once he left you.”
Laney muttered a curse under her breath, and Harlan felt the heat of his own anger rise. That theory made too much sense, especially since Billy was nowhere to be found right now. If he’d truly needed medical care, he would have ended up in a hospital.
“By the way, Noah had another SUV sent over first thing this morning.” Garrett’s tone shifted, lighter for a beat. “At this rate, you two are running through vehicles like water.”
Despite the situation, the corner of Harlan’s mouth tugged into a near smile. He glanced at Laney, but her eyes stayed sharp, watchful.
Garrett sobered again. “Noah also assigned two more operatives to help cover the place. One’s posted at the end of the road, the other’s patrolling the back fence. You’ll see them when you head out.”
That eased some of the tension thrumming in Harlan’s chest. He reached out, clasped Garrett’s shoulder. “Thanks. For everything.”
Laney added her own quiet thank-you, her voice softer than his but carrying the same weight. Then the two of them stepped out into the morning air, ready to head for the sheriff’s office.
Laney lifted the keys. “I’ll drive. You eat.”
He wanted to argue, to keep his hands on the wheel where he could control something, but the smell of the breakfast sandwich that Carol had fixed for him was too strong, and she was right. Besides, they needed to move, not linger out in the open. He gave her a quick nod, rounded the hood, and climbed into the passenger seat of the new SUV.
Once they were buckled up, Laney pulled out fast, gravel spitting under the tires. Harlan kept his eyes on the tree line, every shadow a possible threat. He ate with one hand, his other resting close enough to grab his weapon if they needed it.
At the end of the driveway, Laney slowed a little and did more glancing around. Patrol cars and crime scene tape marked the spot where the shooting had gone down.
The old SUV had already been hauled away, but the ground was still littered with shell casings, broken glass, and the gleam of evidence markers. Deputies stood guard, tense and watchful. So did the Crossfire Ops guy that Harlan recognized as Cal Granger.
Harlan gave Cal a nod and made a mental note to thank him. Doing guard duty was low-level duty for a man of Cal’s special expertise. In fact, Harlan wasn’t sure of all of Cal’s talents, but he’d heard Noah mention him as the team’sJack Reacher. Harlan was glad to have him and Garrett making sure the place stayed safe.
Laney pressed harder on the accelerator as they passed by Cal. “I hate that Evie has to see any of this,” she muttered.
Harlan swallowed against the knot in his throat. He hated it, too. But right now, this was all a necessity.
A short distance later, they came upon the cordoned off area with crime scene tape that flapped in the morning breeze. The spot of David’s injury and the more recent explosive device they’d found.
Whoever was behind these attacks was keeping the sheriff’s office and Crossfire Ops stretched thin.
And it was working.
Laney kept her focus on the road, but Harlan could see the tension in the set of her shoulders, the way her hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tight.
Stress was riding both of them, crawling under their skin. And until they caught the shooter, or the person giving the orders, they would stay wound tight, braced for the next attack.
Harlan finished his breakfast sandwich and crumpled the empty wrapper just as Laney swung the SUV into a reserved parking space outside the sheriff’s office. He dropped the wrapper onto the console, grabbed his coffee, and climbed out beside her.
Inside the building, the air carried that mix of old coffee and disinfectant, the familiar scent of law enforcement buildings everywhere. Sheriff Barnes was waiting just past the front desk, arms folded, his expression grim.
“I’ve got Brannigan and Sherry in separate rooms,” Barnes immediately told them. “Sherry’s being tight-lipped. Won’t say much to me. Except she wants a word with you two.” His eyes flicked between Harlan and Laney. “Brannigan’s the opposite. The man won’t shut up. He’s answering questions before I can even ask them.”
