Trudy’s hand trembled on the blanket. “And?”
“I talked him down,” Isla assured her. “He let me take the gun.”
Trudy’s eyes filled with more tears. “And Harris? How’s he holding up?”
“He’s at the station,” Garrett explained. “The deputies are questioning him, but no one believes he was involved in the attack.”
Trudy’s grip tightened weakly on Isla’s hand. “That poor boy. Everything he thought he knew, ripped away in a night.”
Isla swallowed hard, the exhaustion pressing in on her like lead. She and Garrett were wrung out, every nerve still wired from the storm and the gunfire. But what they felt was nothing compared to Harris. His whole world had collapsed.
They didn’t linger long with Trudy. After the rawness of their words and the heaviness still in the air, it felt cruel to press her for more. Isla bent and kissed her cheek, Garrett’s larger hand resting briefly over Trudy’s frail one. “Get some rest,” Isla whispered. “We’ll try to bring Harris to see you in the morning.”
Trudy nodded, eyes glassy but determined. “You do that. He needs family now more than ever.”
They left quietly, the door easing shut behind them, and walked back down the sterile hall to the waiting room. The hour was late enough that the place was nearly empty. Only Noah sat in the corner with Anais beside him. She looked drained, her eyes swollen from crying, and when she lifted her gaze to them, Isla felt the ache of her grief.
“I just came from the station,” Anais said, voice rough. “Harris will be over soon, but I wanted to check on my dad.” She swiped at her face, shaking her head. “Even after everything he’s done, he’s still my father. But I’ll never forgive him for what he did.”
Anais’s face crumpled, and fresh tears spilled over as her voice broke. “Did Dad really kill Mom?”
Isla’s chest tightened. She wished she could soften the truth, but there was no mercy in lies. “Yes,” she said quietly. “He did.”
Anais pressed her fists to her mouth as if she could hold back the sobs, but they came anyway. “This is all my fault,” she choked out.
“No,” Isla started, but Anais shook her head hard, words tumbling fast.
“I had a friend… he’s good with computers. He hacked files for me. I know it’s illegal, but I had to know. At first it was just my own stuff, then my parents’, normal things. And then I found something in Dad’s financials that didn’t add up. So I kept digging. I told Mom. And she—” Anais’s voice cracked. “She started searching on her own. She found that address, the house where she…”
Her words collapsed under the weight of it.
“She went there for answers,” Anais whispered, tears streaming down her face. “And Dad killed her.”
Isla leaned closer, her voice firm but gentle. “This isn’t on you, Anais. The blame is all on your father. Every bit of it.”
Anais shook her head, tears sliding faster until they broke into sobs. “I can’t—” Her words faltered, and she stumbled back a step. “I just need a minute.”
She sank heavily into one of the chairs lining the waiting room wall, burying her face in her hands. The sound of her sobbing echoed in the sterile quiet of the hospital.
Garrett bent his head toward Noah, keeping his voice low. “Any sign she was part of the attacks?”
Noah’s answer came steady. “Nothing. Not a shred of evidence that she was involved. And it’s the same with Paula. She was in the dark about what Randall did.” He paused, his expression grim. “Paula’s at the station now, being questioned. She’s shaken. But she didn’t know.”
“Good,” Isla and Garrett muttered in unison.
“Raines’ deputies swept Harris’s things,” Noah went on. “They found trackers. One on his phone, another in his fitnesswatch. And a third on his Jeep. That’s how Kane zeroed in on him.”
A chill slid down Isla’s spine. “So that’s how he knew where to find him.”
“Exactly,” Noah said. His jaw worked as if he were grinding back more anger. “But I’m betting Randall didn’t order Kane to fire those shots so close to Harris. He wanted control, not a body bag.”
Garrett’s gaze darkened, the muscles in his jaw turning to iron. “Still, Kane nearly put him in one.”
Isla nodded, her stomach twisting. “If Harris had been hit…” She let the words fade. No need to say more. They all knew how close it had come.
Garrett’s gaze locked on Noah. “What about Marion Cole? What did you find on her?”
Noah rubbed a hand over his face, weariness settling in his features. “She died when Harris was nineteen. Natural causes. No sign of foul play.”
