With reason.
To him, three strangers showing up at dawn could mean anything. A con. A robbery. Even Raines’ badge might look like nothing more than a prop.
“Why don’t you just tell me why you’re here?” Harris asked, his tone low and clipped.
Garrett stayed still, forcing his hands loose at his sides. He wanted to tell him outright. Wanted to shake him, hug him, anything but stand frozen in this limbo. But this wasn’t his call.
Raines shifted, shoulders drawing back. Garrett caught the subtle pause, the way the sheriff gathered in a long breath. He was weighing words, working through where to begin. This wasn’t a story you could unload all at once without shattering the ground beneath a man’s feet.
“We need to talk about something that happened when you were a baby,” Raines finally said. “Does the name Harris McCord mean anything to you?”
Harris blinked, his brow furrowed, but there was nothing behind his eyes except confusion. “No,” he answered flatly.
Garrett studied the young man’s expression, and he believed him. There was no flicker of recognition at the mention of Harris’s name. No buried spark of memory. Just a wall of blank truth.
“You were abducted as a newborn,” Raines added.
For a heartbeat, the silence held. Then Harris let out a short, sharp laugh. “Okay. This is a joke. And let me guess, this is Blake’s doing. He’s always pulling shit like this.”
He started to push the door closed, but his phone buzzed in his hand. He looked at the screen, his posture stiffening. Whatever name flashed there, it drained the humor from his face.
Harris lifted the phone to his ear, tension already in his voice. “What’s wrong?”
Garrett strained to catch the reply, but the words were muffled, swallowed by distance and the crackle of the line. Whatever was said, it stripped the color from Harris’s face. His grip tightened on the phone.
Then, without another word, he slammed the door in their faces.
Garrett lunged forward, hand shooting out for the handle, but the deadbolt clicked before he could push it open. The lock thudded into place, cold and final.
From the other side, hurried footsteps pounded against the hardwood. Running. Fast.
Garrett cursed under his breath. Harris was bolting. Maybe out the back. Maybe into the streets. But two questions burned hotter than the rest. Who had called Harris, and what the hell had they said to set him off like that?
“Go around back,” Raines told Isla and him. “I’ll stay at the front in case he comes out.”
Garrett nodded and tugged Isla along with him, both of them hurrying along the side of the warehouse. Isla pulled her phone from her pocket, already pressing in a number. Garrett heard the faint buzz of a call ringing out, then Isla muttering when it went to voicemail. “He’s not answering.”
The alley behind the warehouse was narrow, shadowed, littered with damp cardboard and rusting trash bins. A stray cat darted across their path, its tail bristled high, before vanishing under a dented dumpster.
Garrett’s gaze locked on the steel exit door at the end unit. A small red light glowed above the security camera aimed directly at them. Whoever had set it up knew exactly who was at the door.
He stepped close and knocked, his knuckles sharp against the metal. “Harris. Listen to me. We have things to tell you, things you need to hear.”
Silence pressed back at him. No shuffle of footsteps. No reply.
Then, from one of the upper windows of the warehouse, a man’s voice cut through the stillness. Irritated. “Cut down the fucking noise! Some of us are trying to sleep!”
Garrett ignored him, pressing his palm flat to the door, leaning close as if Harris could feel the urgency through the steel.
Nothing.
Not a single sound from inside.
Isla was already dialing again, her voice tight with frustration as the call went to voicemail. “Harris, it’s Isla Prescott,” she said quickly. “You don’t know me, but there are things you need to hear. Dangerous secrets. Please call me back.” She ended the message and lowered the phone, her eyes flicking to Garrett.
Garrett knocked hard on the door once more, his fist echoing through the narrow alley. “Harris, open up. Now.”
The sharp blast of a gunshot cut the air. Concrete splintered just inches from his boots, bits of stone stinging his shin. The sound ricocheted off the walls, deafening in the confined space.
