Why the hell had Leah been there? Was she Marion Cole, hiding behind that alias all these years? Was that house where she had taken Harris after the abduction? Or had someone lured her there, knowing the fire would erase every trace of evidence?
His mind flashed back to the shadow of movement in the backyard, just before the fireball swallowed the place whole. Had someone killed Leah and fled? Or had there been something else happening behind those flames, something they were still blind to?
Beside him, Isla whispered, “God.”
Her voice carried the same question he couldn’t shake. If Leah was gone, what did that mean for Harris? And who the hell was still out there, pulling strings in the dark?
“There was blunt force trauma to Leah’s skull,” Raines went on. “Could be from the collapse in the fire, could be before. The ME will sort that out, but right now it’s too soon to call.”
Garrett felt his gut tighten. Too many damn possibilities. Too many ways the truth could slip through their fingers.
“I’m about to notify Randall and Anais,” Raines added. “Which means the interview with Randall might have to wait. But there’s one thing I can’t shake. Did the killer know we wereon our way to Marion Cole’s house? And if so, did someone silence her before we got there?”
Garrett’s gaze met Isla’s across the table. Her eyes were sharp, glittering with the same thought that had just landed like a hammer in his chest.
“It could be Anais,” Isla said quietly, her voice threading with both logic and unease. “She’s the one who gave us Marion Cole’s name. Maybe she found the house, too. And remember, she told us about Marion right in front of Paula and Randall. Maybe one of them realized there could be something there that would point to what happened with Harris. Something they didn’t want us to see.”
Garrett leaned back, coffee forgotten, jaw working. Too many suspects. Too many secrets. And now Leah’s death only twisted the knot tighter.
Raines let out a long breath, the kind that carried more frustration than relief. “Here’s another angle. Maybe Leah went there to burn the place down herself. Get rid of anything that could tie her to Harris. If that’s the case, she could’ve gotten caught in her own fire.”
Garrett stared down at the half-empty coffee mug in his hand, the sheriff’s words circling in his head. Leah torching her own secret made a kind of brutal sense.
“Are you sure you saw someone in the backyard?” Raines asked. “Could have been Leah.”
Garrett looked at Isla, and she gave the smallest nod. “We believe we did,” he said. “But it’s possible. If it was Leah, maybe she ran out, panicked, then for some reason ran back in.” He shook his head, the image grinding in his thoughts. “Doesn’t make sense. Why the hell would she go back into a burning house?”
Isla’s gaze flicked toward him, mirroring the same gnawing unease that Garrett felt. Whatever had happened out there, Leah’s choices—or someone else’s—didn’t add up.
The quiet of the kitchen broke with the sharp ding from Isla’s laptop. She nearly spilled her coffee as she pushed it aside and hurried to the screen. Garrett watched her face pale, then flush with shock.
“I found something,” she whispered. Her fingers trembled as she tapped the trackpad. “The name of a nanny. Hired twenty-two years ago by Marion Cole.” She looked up, eyes wide. “Her name’s Lillian Markham. She’s living in San Antonio. Current phone number and address right here.”
Garrett leaned in to see the information flash across the screen. He felt his gut tighten. This was more than just scraps and shadows. This was a flesh-and-blood witness.
Before he could say anything, the sheriff’s voice came over the speakerphone. “Go on. What did you just find?”
Isla repeated the details, giving Raines the name and location.
He didn’t interrupt, but when she finished, his voice came low and measured. “All right. We need to move carefully. If this woman truly worked for Marion Cole, she may have answers you’ve been chasing for two decades. But she might also spook if she feels cornered.”
“What do you suggest?” Garrett asked, though he already knew where this was heading.
“We do a group call,” Raines said. “I’ll take the lead, use Leah’s death as the reason I need her help with an ongoing investigation. That should give us a way in without raising alarms. You two listen. No interruptions unless I open the door for you.”
Isla’s shoulders tightened. “You think she’ll talk?”
“She might,” Raines said. “Shock can loosen lips, and Leah’s death is a hammer blow I can use. But we need to strike before she has a chance to shut us down. Give me five minutes, then patch me into a conference line with her number.”
Garrett looked at Isla. She already had the number copied and ready, fingers hovering over the keys, her expression caught between anticipation and fear.
“Let’s see what she knows,” Garrett said, his voice flat. He felt the old mission burn in his chest. This wasn’t just about Harris anymore. It was about every damn secret buried under twenty-two years of lies.
Garrett kept his gaze locked on Isla while the phone line clicked and rang. He could hear the faint grogginess of a woman’s voice when she finally answered.
“Hello?”
“This is County Sheriff Raines of Crossfire Creek, ma’am,” the sheriff said, his tone calm but carrying authority. “Am I speaking with Lillian Markham?”
