No. Marion forbade me from taking pictures of her or Daniel. She said she had an abusive ex and didn’t want him finding them. That’s why she was so secretive.
Isla read the words aloud, and Garrett muttered something under his breath, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.
“So that’s it,” Isla said softly. “Leah, Randall, or Paula could have hired this Marion to play the mother. Any of them could have pulled it off.”
“But then why kill Leah?” Garrett shot her a quick glance, eyes hard in the dim light. “If she wasn’t Marion, why was she at that house? Who made sure she didn’t walk away from there?”
Isla stared out at the gray blur of the highway. None of the pieces fit, not yet. But someone had made damn sure they wouldn’t.
The drive felt like an eternity or two before they finally reached the city. San Antonio spread out around them, the streets buzzing with early commuters and the steady pulse of city life. Isla watched the skyline blur by, her nerves tightening the closer they drew to the address. Garrett weaved them through the traffic until the GPS announced the turn.
The warehouse came into view, an old brick structure with a faded mural across one wall. The building had been cleaned up enough to pass as trendy, the kind of place artists and musicians gravitated toward.
Rows of tall windows lined the second story, some open to the morning sun, curtains flapping faintly in the breeze. The lower level was divided into doors and narrow balconies, each marked with industrial-style numbers.
Daniel’s place sat at the end of the warehouse. A corner unit with a small outdoor staircase led up to a steel door painted black, a single light fixture above it. A bicycle leaned against the wall nearby, along with a battered guitar case left just under the overhang.
Garrett pulled to the curb and killed the engine. They sat in silence for a moment, both of them taking in the sight.
A single security camera perched above the door, its red light winking in the early morning gloom. But that was it. None of the heavy security they had found at the burned-out house. Just a converted warehouse that looked as if it belonged to young dreamers trying to carve out a place for themselves. But Isla’s pulse hammered anyway. Somewhere behind that door might be Harris.
She caught some movement behind them, and Isla turned to see Raines pulling up in his cruiser. Relief flickered through her, but the knot in her stomach didn’t ease. Together, the three of them crossed the pavement and climbed the short staircase to the door.
The sheriff pressed the bell, and they waited, but nothing followed. Seconds ticked by, and he pressed it again.
Isla’s chest tightened. What if he wasn’t here? What if they’d come all this way only to find an empty apartment? She curled her hands into fists, trying to ground herself as the quiet pressed in on them.
Raines rapped his knuckles against the door, firm and deliberate, and the sound echoed through the warehouse.
From inside came the muffled scrape of movement. Then a groggy voice, thick with sleep. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”
Isla held her breath as locks clicked. The door swung inward.
And she saw him.
Harris.
Chapter Fifteen
Garrett’s chest tightened the instant the door opened. For a second he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, because the face staring back at him was the perfect match to the age-progression Isla had built.
Harris.
Twenty-two years older, taller, leaner, his hair mussed from sleep, but the bone structure, the mouth, the jawline were all there.
The young man let out a jaw-cracking yawn, scratching the back of his neck as if they were nothing more than strangers disturbing his morning. “Who are you? What do you want?”
Garrett’s gaze lifted to the red light blinking on the security camera above the door. It had flickered to life when the door opened, and his stomach clenched. Recording? Alerting someone?
They’d soon find out.
Sheriff Raines stepped forward, steady and calm. “I’m Sheriff Raines. This is Garrett McCall and Isla Prescott. You’re Daniel Cole?”
The young man frowned, suspicion creeping into his sleepy voice. “Yeah. That’s me. What’s this about?”
“We should come in and talk,” Raines insisted.
Harris’s hand tightened on the edge of the door, his body angled just enough that Garrett knew he was ready to slam itshut if things went sideways. The hesitation in his eyes carried weight, a mix of distrust and the instinct to protect himself.
