Harris.
His face was a storm of rage and grief. His voice broke with fury. “This is my father?”
Garrett’s chest tightened, but before he could say a word, Harris bent and snatched up the pistol Randall had dropped. He leveled it at the man sprawled beneath Garrett’s weight. His hands shook, but his aim was true.
“You stole my life,” Harris said, his voice raw. “You lied to me. You killed to cover it up. I heard you say it. You killed someone, and you tried to kill them tonight.”
Randall didn’t fight back. He didn’t beg. His breath came ragged, but his eyes stayed fixed on his son. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Sorry I killed Leah. Sorry I took your mother from you.”
The words hit like a hammer. Harris’s face went pale, trembling with the force of everything crashing down on him. His finger whitened on the trigger.
“My mother?” Harris spat out. “You killed my mother?”
Garrett’s gut clenched. One twitch and this would end in blood.
“Daniel.” Isla’s voice cut through the storm. Calm. Steady. She stepped close, her hands raised, her eyes never leaving his. “Don’t let him take more from you than he already has. Put the gun down.”
Harris’s chest heaved. His knuckles trembled. For a long moment Garrett thought he’d pull the trigger anyway.
Then, slowly, Isla eased the pistol from his grip. She slipped it free, set it aside, and drew in close enough to murmur to him. “It’s over.”
Chapter Twenty
The antiseptic sting of the county hospital hit Isla the moment she and Garrett stepped inside. They had been here too often lately, too many hours spent waiting for news that was never simple, never easy.
Tonight was no different.
Sheriff Raines was in surgery. Randall, too. Both alive when they were brought in. Isla told herself she didn’t care about Randall, that she wanted him to suffer, but the thought of him walking away from everything he had done made her fists curl.
She and Garrett made their way down the hall to Trudy’s room and immediately spotted Crossfire Ops’ operative, Delaney Hart, who was at her post outside Trudy’s room. Delaney had a book open in her lap, but her eyes were sharp when Isla and Garrett approached.
Isla managed a weary smile. “Thanks, Delaney. You might not be needed much longer. The danger’s over.”
Delaney arched a brow. “You sure about that?”
“Sure enough,” Garrett said, though his voice carried the weight of everything they’d been through.
With that, Delaney took out her phone, no doubt to contact Noah to verify it was all right for her to leave, and Isla pushed open the door.
Trudy was propped up against a pillow, the harsh hospital light making the bruises stand out against her skin. Her eyes widened the moment she saw them.
“What are you doing here? It’s late. Past visiting hours. What happened?” she blurted, her words running together.
Isla’s throat tightened. God, it rattled her to see her foster mom in this bed, knowing exactly who had put her here.
Randall.
The man who’d stolen Harris’s life, the man who’d tried to destroy all of theirs. Isla eased closer, brushing her hand gently over Trudy’s.
“We found out who did this to you. It was Randall,” Isla said.
Trudy’s smile faded, replaced by a flood of emotions Isla could see flicker across her face—shock, anger, sorrow. “Randall,” she whispered, her eyes closing for a moment. “Tell me. What happened?”
Garrett pulled up a chair, his jaw tight. “We met Harris at an old ghost town school. First, his hired gun, Victor Kane, showed up, and Randall wasn’t far behind. Both tried to kill us.” He paused. “Randall confessed. He admitted to taking Harris all those years ago. And to killing Leah.”
A tear slipped down Trudy’s cheek, but she held his stare. “My God.”
Isla added softly, “Harris heard every word. He almost… he almost let the anger take him. He had a gun, and he wanted to pull the trigger.”
