“The woman who hired him,” Hodge said, his voice flat, “was Melissa Westbrook.”
Chapter Twelve
Cal stared at the phone, the words slamming into him. Beside him, Alena’s eyes went wide, the same shock rippling through her that he felt.
“You’re saying it was Melissa?” Cal asked, his tone sharp. “You’re sure about that?”
“Yeah,” Hodge said without hesitation. “It was her. Keller told me himself. She paid him.”
Alena let out a breath that sounded like disbelief. Cal wasn’t buying it either, not yet. Hodge could be lying, or Keller could’ve lied to him. For all they knew, this was another layer of smoke meant to hide the real truth. Kara or even Arneson might’ve been behind the whole thing, paying Keller but making sure he pointed the finger at Melissa.
“Do you know who was hired to work with Keller?” Cal asked.
There was a pause on the line, followed by a muttered curse. “No.”
The single word hit with a flat thud, and Cal’s gut told him it was an outright lie. Hodge knew something. Hell, he might even know the man himself. And if that was the case, Cal understood why he’d keep quiet. Protecting a buddy was one thing. Protecting a kidnapper was another.
Cal steadied his voice. “Here’s what you’re gonna do, Hodge. Call Sheriff Raines and give him a statement. I’ll text you his number.”
Hodge balked. “Why the hell should I?”
“Because Keller’s dead, and this is your chance to help make it right. Sheriff Raines will need your statement.”
Another pause, then a muttered, “Fine. If it’ll get justice for Keller, I’ll do it.”
“Good.” Cal ended the call, thumbed out a quick text to Raines with the recording attached, and added,Hodge just named Melissa as the person who hired Keller. Not sure I believe him.
The reply came fast:I’ll contact Melissa and question her about it.
Cal exhaled and set the phone down. His pulse still ticked fast from the exchange.
“I’ll text Isla,” Alena said, already reaching for her phone. “If Melissa paid Keller or the second man, there might be a withdrawal on her account. A big one.”
Cal nodded. It was a good angle, and Isla was solid at finding things like that.
Alena was still finishing up her text to Isla when Cal’s phone rang. He checked the screen, saw Raines’s name, and answered right away.
“Dexter’s been spotted,” Raines said without preamble. “A fisherman saw him and recognized him from the news.”
Cal’s chest tightened. “Where?”
“A hunting cabin on Crossfire Creek. I’m about to head out there.”
Cal shot a look at Alena, already grabbing her bag. “We’ll meet you there,” he told Raines.
“Good. I’ll see you soon.” The call ended.
Cal stuffed the phone into his pocket, his muscles tense with the surge of adrenaline. “Let’s go.”
Alena gave a quick nod. No hesitation, no second thoughts. Just determination. Together, they grabbed their gear and headed out.
Cal and Alena hurried out to the SUV. The morning sun was already burning down, heat settling over them like a heavy blanket, even though it was barely eight. Sweat gathered at the back of Cal’s neck by the time he slid behind the wheel.
They pulled out fast, gravel spitting under the tires as they headed toward Crossfire Creek. Both of them knew the area well—five miles of winding roads lined with oak and cedar, with the creek cutting through low ground. Cabins sat tucked into the trees, some lived in year-round, others were just weekend getaways. It was quiet country, the kind of place that should’ve felt safe.
Beside him, Alena pulled up photos on her phone. “Most of the cabins are old, a couple abandoned. Plenty of cover.”
“Yeah,” Cal muttered, his grip tight on the wheel. He used his free hand to fire off a text to Noah:Send a drone over the creek. Cabin sighting. Need eyes in the sky.
