When he finally let me go, I was more than a little dazed.
Ian straightened, tipped his hat, and looked at Stone. “I’ll make sure you get a copy.”
Stone grinned, utterly unfazed. “Just making sure I understand the boundaries.”
Ian’s smile was slow. “Glad we’re clear.”
He headed back toward the barn, leaving me standing there with Stone… and a pulse that hadn’t quite remembered how to slow down.
“Now,” Stone said, folding his arms. “About those questions.”
And just like that, the day shifted again.
Stone didn’t waste time.
He asked what the bank robber said, exactly how he said it, what he avoided answering, and what made me think he’d been set up rather than simply unlucky. I told him—every word, every nuance. Stone listened without interrupting, head tilted slightly, eyes sharp.
When I finished, he studied me for a long moment.
“You have a knack for this,” he said finally. “Seeing the angles people miss.”
I crossed my arms. “I read people.”
“And you solve puzzles,” he added. “You don’t just react, you connect things. That’s rare.”
I gave him a look. “Careful. That almost sounded like admiration.”
He smiled faintly. “Call it professional appreciation.”
When his questions tapered off, I decided it was my turn.
“If he was that important,” I said, “why is my dad interrogating him and not you?”
Stone didn’t answer right away.
“What’s his name?” I pressed.
“Todd Smith.”
My brow lifted. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“As in really Smith?” I asked.
Stone nodded once. “Really Smith.”
I let out a slow breath. “That alone raises a few red flags.”
Stone huffed quietly. “You have no idea.”
I pressed him about the interrogation. “The FBI doesn’t usually let a local sheriff question a suspect tied to a multi-bank robbery. So, tell me, Stone—what aren’t you telling me?”
His gaze held mine, calculating how much I was entitled to know and how much he could afford to give.
“You’re right,” he said at last. “We’re not letting him talk to just anyone.”
“Then why my dad?”
