I tense at the direct reference. “Former operation,” I correct, uncomfortable with how easily he throws the words around. “We shut it down.”
“So I heard,” he says, studying me with keen eyes. “But that doesn’t erase what’s already been done, does it?”
“No,” I admit, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “It doesn’t.”
He nods, seemingly satisfied with my response. “Your brother and Truett filled me in on most of the details, but I’d like to hear your perspective, particularly on what’s happening with Deputy Sanchez and Richard Morrison.”
I take a deep breath, organizing my thoughts. “Noah has had it in for us since high school. Old grudges…I stole his girlfriend.But this thing with Morrison is different. It’s calculated.” I explain about Carson hacking into Noah’s files, the evidence they’ve been gathering against us, and the doorbell cameras and traffic footage they’ve collected.
“Carson found video from a doorbell camera near the Morrison Ranch,” I tell him. “Shows our truck driving by on the night we hit their south pasture, and there’s traffic camera footage from later that same night. You can see the truck and the livestock trailer, but the license plate isn’t visible.”
Shawn makes notes on a yellow legal pad as I speak. “And what else did Carson find?”
“A complaint from Richard Morrison claiming he shot one of the rustlers that night.” I remember the bullet that almost ended Truett’s life, how close we came to disaster. “And there are notes about Noah putting pressure on Atlee, thinking she’ll be the one to break and give him what he needs to nail us.”
Shawn’s pen pauses. “How’s Atlee handling all this?”
“Better than I have any right to expect,” I admit. “She knows everything, and she’s still standing by me. By us.”
Something in his expression softens slightly. “Lennon said as much. The Walsh girls have always been fighters.”
“Yeah,” I agree, thinking of Atlee’s strength, her determination. “They have.”
Shawn sets his pen down and leans back in his chair. “Here’s what you need to know, Devlin. There’s an investigation happening at the sheriff’s department, and Noah Sanchez is at the center of it.”
This catches me off guard. “What kind of investigation?”
“The kind that could end his career,” Shawn says bluntly. “Allegations of evidence tampering, witness intimidation, improper relationships with certain prominent citizens…including Richard Morrison.”
My mind races with the implications. “So whatever he has against us…”
“He may not bring it out in the open right now,” Shawn finishes for me. “He’s biding his time, waiting to see how the internal investigation plays out before making any moves against you. Which gives us a window of opportunity.”
“How long of a window?” I ask, restless energy making it hard to sit still. “I’m not good at just sitting back and waiting for things to happen.”
Shawn’s mouth quirks in what might be the ghost of a smile. “So I’ve heard. But in this case, patience may be your best strategy. The higher-ups in the department are watching Noah carefully. Once everything comes out, and it will come out, he’s not going to have a position in the sheriff’s office anymore. Any case he’s built, any evidence he’s gathered, will automatically be called into question.”
It sounds too good to be true. “And we just wait?”
“Not exactly,” Shawn corrects. “We prepare. We gather our own information on Project Watershed, on Morrison’s land grabs, and on Noah’s involvement. We build a counter-case that makes any move against you look like retaliation.”
“And if Noah moves before the investigation concludes?” The possibility hangs heavy in the air.
“Then we’re ready,” Shawn assures me. “We’ve got the groundwork laid for a defense that centers around Morrison’s improper influence over law enforcement and his attempts to pressure local ranchers into selling their land. We shift the narrative.”
I consider his words, weighing them against my instinct to take action now. “I don’t know how long we can wait,” I finally say. “Noah’s already targeting Atlee, and Morrison is involved. It feels like the noose is tightening.”
Shawn leans forward, his expression serious. “Listen to me, Devlin. I understand the impulse to act, to confront this head-on. But sometimes the smartest move is to let your enemies make the first mistake. Noah and Morrison are both under scrutiny. Push them now, and you might give them exactly what they need to justify moving against you.”
I run a hand through my hair, frustrated but recognizing the logic in his argument. “All right,” I concede. “We play it your way. For now.”
“Good,” he says, standing and extending his hand again. “Keep your head down, keep in touch with me about any developments, and try not to give Noah any reason to accelerate his timeline.”
I rise and shake his hand. “Thanks for meeting with me. For taking this on.”
“Thank Lennon,” he says. “She’s quite adamant about protecting her sister and, by extension, you. But I would’ve taken the case regardless. Morrison’s been throwing his weight around this county for too long. It’s time someone pushed back.”
As I leave his office, Lennon is waiting in the hallway, arms crossed, expression expectant. “Well?” she demands.
