Her blood ran cold just saying it out loud. The chaos, the fire, the injured deputies—it was the perfect cover for someone to slip away, unseen.
And her little girl was miles away with Garrett and her mother.
Laney shoved past the smoke to look at Harlan, her fear sharp and cutting. “We have to get back. Now.”
He certainly didn’t argue with her about that. They got moving. Fast. Laney’s boots pounded against the pavement as she and Harlan sprinted to the SUV. Her pulse was racing, loud in her ears, nearly drowning out the shouts and the crackle of flames behind them.
She yanked the passenger door open and slid inside, adrenaline urging her to scream at Harlan to drive, to put as much distance between them and that chaos as possible.
But another thought hit, cold and hard.
“What if someone planted a bomb on this SUV too?” she blurted, her hand frozen on the door handle as if she might need to jump back out.
Harlan’s eyes cut to hers, sharp and steady. “This rig’s outfitted with security. Nobody could get near it without setting off the alarm.”
It helped, but not enough. Fear pressed hard against her chest.
“Still,” he added, grim as he stepped back out, “I’m checking.”
Laney held her breath while he crouched low, scanning the undercarriage, his movements quick and methodical. Every second stretched, her nerves wound tighter. Finally, he came up, gave the hood and trunk a fast once-over, then yanked the driver’s door open.
“All clear,” he said, sliding behind the wheel.
Laney exhaled hard, her body trembling with relief and urgency both. She slammed her door shut just as he threw the SUV into gear.
They tore out of the lot, the blaze and chaos shrinking in the rearview mirror, sirens cutting through the air. Laney twisted in her seat, watching until the orange glow of the burning truck faded into the distance.
Her thoughts shot straight to home. To Evie. To her mother.
Please let them be safe.
She clutched the door handle tight as Harlan pushed the SUV faster. Every mile between them and the sheriff’s office felt like an eternity, but it was nothing compared to the fear clawing inside her. Whoever was behind this, they were running out of distractions to play with. Which meant the next move might go straight for the people Laney loved most.
“I’m texting Mom,” she let Harlan know.
Laney’s thumbs flew over her phone as the SUV bumped along the road out of town.Take extra precautions. There could be trouble.
Her mother’s reply came fast, as if she had been sitting with the phone in hand.We’ll be careful. Don’t worry about us.
Easier said than done. No way could Laney shove aside the fear that her little girl might be in danger.
Laney shoved the phone back into her pocket, her gaze fixed ahead, and her hand on the butt of her gun. The landscape thinned into the familiar stretch of countryside, but her chest tightened the closer they got to that curve. The place where David had been hurt.
The crime scene tape still fluttered near the culvert, bright against the early light. Not from years ago but from just days back, when the bomb had been planted.
But that wasn’t all.
Her breath caught. “Harlan,” she said, her voice low and sharp.
Something else was there.
It wasn’t just the tape. Fresh gouges in the dirt marred the roadside. And down near the culvert’s edge was a dark shape, too solid, too deliberate to be scrap.
Harlan slowed the SUV, the weight of the moment pressing down on the cab. Laney’s hand pressed instinctively to her sidearm, and when Harlan braked to a crawl, she drew it.
The culvert loomed closer. The dirt gouges. The dark shape.
Her nerves fired hot. Every sound seemed louder—the grind of the tires, her own shallow breathing.
