The figure in black slipped into the trees before Harlan and Laney could close the distance. Branches shifted, then stilled, and the sound of movement faded.
They reached the edge of the shoulder, and Laney took a step toward the tree line, but Harlan caught her by the arm.
“Hold up,” he insisted.
She turned on him, frustration in her eyes. “We have to go after him before he gets away.”
“There could be more explosives planted in there,” Harlan reminded her. “For all we know, that person wanted us to see them and go in pursuit. This could be a trap.”
Laney’s jaw tightened, and she huffed, then groaned. “Then what does this SOB want? Why do this?”
He had no answer yet. The only thing he was sure of was that someone had gone to a lot of trouble to get their attention. And until he knew who or why, he had to assume that Laney was in danger.
The rising wail of sirens broke the silence, and Harlan and Laney turned back toward their vehicles, scanning the ground as they moved. Every step was deliberate, their eyes cutting from the road to the grass, watching for trip wires or anything out of place.
A bomb squad van crested the hill, followed by a patrol cruiser. Gravel crunched under the tires as both vehicles slowed and stopped a safe distance from the culvert.
Two deputies climbed out of the cruiser, and thanks to his many visits to Redwater Sheriff’s Office when David had been alive, Harlan recognized both of them. Deputy Rick Mendez, stocky and clean-shaven, adjusted his belt as he came around the hood. Beside him, Deputy Carla Diaz scanned the area, her hand resting lightly on her holstered sidearm.
Rick’s gaze found Laney first. “You all right?” he asked, his voice carrying over the idling engines of the cruiser and the bomb squad van.
Harlan listened as Laney briefed Mendez and Diaz, her voice steady even as she described the figure in black with the camera. While she talked, two bomb techs in heavy vests moved toward the culvert. Harlan didn’t recognize either one.
The techs both crouched low, eyeing the device. After only a glance, one of them swore. “This thing looks active,” he called out. “Everyone, clear the area. Now.”
The order had the deputies backing toward their cruiser. One tech motioned to Laney. “Is that yours?” he asked, pointing to her car, and she nodded. “Leave your unit where it is. It’s too close to the device.”
Laney’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. She turned toward Harlan without a word. He motioned toward his truck, and they hurried there. No way did he want Laney anywhere near that bomb if it went off.
They got in his truck, and Harlan pulled away slowly at first, then picked up speed once the culvert was behind them. The road curved gently ahead, the barbed-wire fences and scattered mesquites giving them clear lines of sight in both directions. His eyes swept the ditches and fence lines, searching for movement, for the flash of a lens or the glint of glass.
Somewhere out there, theirphotographermight be watching. And Harlan very much wanted to speak to them and find out what the hell they wanted.
Once Harlan was about a quarter of a mile from the culvert, he eased the truck onto the gravel shoulder. From here they could see anyone coming up the road long before they reached the scene, and he could stop them. Until Mendez and Diaz got a proper roadblock in place, this would have to do. No way did he want anyone driving into an active scene where there could be another deadly explosion.
He glanced at Laney. The worry was written all over her face, tightening her mouth, shadowing her eyes. Frustration sat there too, sharp and restless, and then the fresh panic flashed in her eyes.
She yanked her phone from her pocket and punched in a number. “I just need to check on Evie,” she said, her voice tight and her hands trembling now. She didn’t put the call on speaker, but Harlan didn’t need to hear both sides to know what was being said.
“Hi, Mom,” Laney blurted, her words spilling fast. “Everything good with you and Evie?”
A beat of silence, then her shoulders eased a fraction. She murmured something he couldn’t catch, but the relief in her tone told him enough. Evie and her grandmother, Carol, were fine.
Harlan knew that Laney’s mom, Carol Sutton, was no stranger to trouble. She had worn the same badge her daughter now carried, served in the same sheriff’s office until she’d retired, and the woman still had the instincts of a cop.
Laney told her mom to keep the doors locked and stay alert. Her voice softened as she added that it might be nothing, but it was best to be careful anyway.
He had no doubt Carol would take those words to heart. If there was even the slightest chance of a threat near her granddaughter, Carol would make sure the house was locked up tight and that she was ready for anything.
When Laney ended the call, she turned her gaze back on him. Their eyes locked, holding for just a fraction too long before she looked away. The heat that flared between them hit him in the gut, sharp.
And unwelcome.
Harlan bit back a curse. His mind went somewhere it shouldn’t, dragging him back to the years before everything went sideways. Back to college, when they had briefly dated. Back before he had left for the military and she had started seeing David. He had stepped aside then, once David and Laney were together, but his feelings for her had never completely followed suit.
Four years had passed since David’s death, yet it still didn’t feel right to cross that line. Not when David had been his best friend. Not when the promise Harlan had made on that bloody roadside still echoed in his mind to protect her, always protect her.
Laney’s phone rang, sharp in the quiet of the cab, and she glanced at the screen.
