The rest of the afternoon was a blur of FBI technicians sweeping the property while Joe reviewed security footage. They found three more listening devices—one near the barn, one by Heather's cabin, and one alongside the main house.
"They've probably heard everything," Heather said, pacing the kitchen while Charlotte played upstairs with the puppies. "They'll know we're working with the FBI."
"Maybe not," Joe said. "The devices look cheap, short-range. They'd need to be nearby to pick up anything."
"Which means they've been watching the ranch," Kenny added grimly.
"Change of plans," Agent Martinez announced, hanging up her phone. "We move tonight. Mr. Richards just booked a flight to Mexico for tomorrow evening. Ms. Prescott, are you ready to make another call?"
Heather nodded, her heart racing but her voice steady as she dialed Richards' number again. "Mr. Richards? About tomorrow... I've got a conflict with a client. Could we meet this afternoon instead? I'd like to get this settled."
There was a pause, then, "Today? Well, I suppose... shall we say five thirty? We’ll still have plenty of daylight left."
"Perfect."
After she hung up, Lyle pulled her into his arms. "I don't like this. It's too rushed."
"It's our best chance," Martinez said. "We'll have the place surrounded. Nothing will happen to her."
Thick, cumulus clouds gathered over the horizon as Heather made her way toward the Waverly property, a creeping unease coiling in her stomach. Her heart raced, but she pushed the fear back, reminding herself of the stakes. Each breath she took was underpinned by the knowledge that she was no longer alone in this fight, that she had the Watkins brothers and the FBI backing her.
As she approached the run-down estate, the silhouette of Darren Richards emerged from his sleek black SUV, his demeanor smooth and rehearsed as always. She steeled herself, meeting his piercing gaze as she got out of the Jeep and joined him on the porch.
"Ms. Prescott," he greeted, his smile devoid of warmth. "Glad you could make it. I trust you’re ready to reconsider my offer?"
"Let's skip the formalities, Darren," Heather replied, her voice steady, but inside, doubt fought to surface. "I know what you're really after. And it's not just a business partnership."
Richards glanced around, ensuring they were alone before leaning closer. "You’re right, of course. But let’s be honest here. You’re not exactly in a position to dictate terms. We both know I’m not going anywhere without that property and there's no way you can outbid me. I can hire more staff than you have the funds for and create a training facility you won't be able to compete with. You don’t want to make an enemy out of me.”
Her skin pricked despite the tension thrumming in the air. "Your attempts to intimidate me won’t work.”
“Intimidate?” He chuckled darkly. “Hardly. I’m merely facilitating progress, darling. This town is holding you back—holding all of us back.”
Heather felt the blood drain from her face. “This isn't about progress, Darren. You’re looking to bulldoze dreams.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Some dreams aren’t worth preserving, Ms. Prescott. You need to know when to step aside."
As his voice lulled into a deeper tone, Heather’s instincts kicked in. Someone had to provoke him enough to spill a crucial detail. “What’s stopping you from leaving this behind? Perhaps you have something in common with my ex-husband, Bret. Doesn’t he have interests in making sure I don’t get this property?”
Richards’ green eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise followed swiftly by anger. “Bret is a different beast entirely. But yes, I’m aware he wanted to ensure you didn’t secure this deal. He's the one who actually pointed us in your direction. The fact that there’s something you want that can be useful to me was bonus.”
“Why?” she pressed, matching his intensity, focusing on the changing tide in his rhythm.
“Messy things, divorce settlements, you know? Your loss here is his gain."
"You mean his company's gain? BMG Industries stands for Bret McGowen, right?"
"Ah, he wondered if you'd found the files in your search for divorce discovery."
"You mean the International contracts and investments? The deals with shysters like you?" She was bluffing. She'd found no such files, but now realized that Bret was worried that she had.
“Perhaps.” Richards leaned back, his smugness returning. “But we're straying from the purpose of our meeting here. And it's reminding me that I won't be able to just stop at property acquisitions to deal with you, Heather. Sometimes, the message needs to go beyond just words—especially when it comes to you. Bret knew that too. Intimidation doesn’t come without consequences.”
There. That was it. With Richards’ admission rolling from his tongue like a confession, Heather’s breath caught. If they could connect this to a tangible threat—if he tied his illegal dealings and threats to Bret, they had their case.
At that moment, several FBI agents emerged from the shadows, surrounding the porch like wolves ready to pounce. Martinez stepped forward, determination etched into her features. “Darren Richards, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit intimidation and harassment, among other charges. You’re done threatening Heather Prescott and this town.”
Darren’s grin faltered, replaced by disbelief that morphed into anger as he struggled against the agents closing in. “You have nothing! I was just talking business!”
