Two versions of the same story, with each one pointing the finger at the other.
Harlan felt the knot in his gut tighten. Either Billy was lying, or Sherry was. Or maybe both of them were knee-deep in this, scrambling now that the Rangers had reopened the case.
He didn’t like the odds on any of it.
One thing was clear, though. Sherry was scared. That panic he’d seen flash through her eyes wasn’t nothing. And fear had a way of dragging the truth to the surface sooner or later.
The sheriff gave Sherry one last look. “I’ll be back in soon to take your statement.” He motioned for Laney and Harlan to follow, and they stepped out together, the door shutting with a solid click behind them.
Across the hall, the sheriff opened the door to the next interview room. “You can head into observation,” he said, holding it for them.
Brannigan leaned back in the chair, arms loose at his sides, his mouth curving into a smug smile. “Stay,” Brannigan insisted. “You’ll all three want to hear this part.”
The sheriff sighed. “Told you he was chatty,” he murmured.
“Hey, I just want to clear up why I bought that stuff to build explosives,” Brannigan insisted. “It was a side job. That’s all it was. Dismantling old well-site gear. Steel, copper, scrap worth selling off. Nothing illegal about that unless you twist it.”
The sheriff crossed his arms. “You expect me to believe you just happened to buy components that match up with an IED by the culvert and that it was all innocent?”
Brannigan’s grin widened. “Believe what you want. I didn’t dream up this gig on my own. I had a client. Someone who knew exactly what they wanted and how much they’d pay to make it happen.”
Harlan felt Laney shift beside him, but Brannigan wasn’t even looking their way. He was enjoying the spotlight, riding his own arrogance like it gave him an edge.
The sheriff’s voice cut through the room, hard and demanding. “Name. Who hired you?”
Brannigan’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Well, that would be none other than Sherry.”
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Chapter Fifteen
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Laney kept her arms folded tight across her chest, trying to ground herself as Brannigan pulled a phone from his pocket. His smug grin made her want to slap the expression off his face, but she forced herself to focus when he hit the play button.
The recording was gravelly, the voices distorted by background noise, but there was no mistaking Sherry’s clipped drawl. She was haggling, her tone sharp and impatient, as she pressed for a lower price on the components that Brannigan claimed were for the explosive.
Laney’s stomach turned. This wasn’t proof that Sherry had planted the device or fired the shots at them, but it was damning all the same. Buying that kind of equipment off the books wasn’t legal.
Sheriff Barnes cursed under his breath and shut off the recording. “We’ll see what a forensics team can make of it,” he muttered, “but this doesn’t look good for her.”
No, it didn’t. Laney’s heart pounded harder with each beat, torn between the rush of vindication and the fresh wave of dread. If Sherry really had gone this far, then they were staringat a woman with plenty to lose and plenty of motive to make sure Laney never unearthed the truth about David.
They left Brannigan’s interview room and crossed the hall. Barnes knocked once on the closed door before pushing it open.
Empty.
The chair sat pushed back from the table, the cup of water still sweating rings onto the surface, but Sherry herself was nowhere in sight.
Laney’s pulse jumped into her throat. “Where the heck is she?”
The sheriff’s jaw locked. He swung back toward the hallway, muttering a curse that carried enough heat to singe the walls.
Laney hurried down the hall with Harlan and the sheriff at her side, scanning every doorway and corner. But there was no sign of Sherry.
“She must have slipped out the side exit,” Barnes growled, cutting toward the break room door.
It stood ajar, and through the narrow gap Laney could see daylight spilling in from the parking lot beyond.
