Harlan shrugged. “Maybe you want to muddy the waters.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if you manage to get suspicion off yourself and onto someone else.”
Devin opened his mouth, no doubt to return verbal fire or at least deny it, but Slade came back into view. He touched his hand to the hood of the Mercedes, said something and hurried toward them.
“No sign of Billy,” Slade grumbled, and he turned to Devin. “How long ago did you say he arrived?”
“Right before I called you.”
Slade shook his head. “Then something’s not right, because if Billy arrived fifteen minutes ago like you said, the hood of his car should be hotter from the engine running.”
That narrowed Devin’s eyes again. “I’m sick and tired of being accused of lying. For all I know Billy could have been sitting out there for a while before he came inside.”
Harlan took a step closer to Devin. “And why would he do that?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. I came here to try to help, but all of this has just convinced me that you or one of your lawmen brothers left that threatening message.” Devin turned and headed for the inn. “If you want to speak to me about anything else, you can call my lawyer.” He went inside and slammed the door behind him.
“That went well,” Caitlyn mumbled. She glanced at Harlan and Slade. Then at the silver Mercedes. “You think Devin set all of this up, that maybe Billy was never even here?”
“It’s possible.” Harlan answered so quickly that he’d probably already come to the same conclusion. “It’s also possible that Devin’s calling the Rangers if he hasn’t already. We need to leave now.”
Harlan didn’t wait. He took her by the arm, pushing her back into the truck. “If Devin is still here when Dallas arrives, he’ll take him in for questioning.”
That was something at least, but it didn’t seem nearly enough.
Harlan had already started to get in when Caitlyn caught a movement by the Mercedes. A blur of motion.
“Is it Billy?” she asked.
Harlan didn’t have time to answer because the blur of motion became a lot clearer. Someone wearing a ski mask. And that someone was armed.
He took aim at them and fired.
* * *
HARLAN’S HEART SLAMMED against his chest, and he threw himself onto the seat and in front of Caitlyn. It wasn’t a second too soon, because the bullet blasted into the passenger’s side window where he’d just been standing.
“Get us out of here!” Harlan told Slade.
His brother started the truck and threw it into gear just as a spray of bullets crashed through the front windshield. Slade had no choice but to get down. Harlan had to as well, and then a jolt knocked him forward, slamming his shoulder and head hard into the dash.
“What the heck was that?” Caitlyn hadn’t collided with just the dash, but with Harlan, too.
Harlan’s head was spinning from the impact, but from what he could tell, someone had crashed into their rear bumper. “Is it a second gunman?”
Slade sat up enough to look in his side mirror. “Don’t think so. Looks like the driver got shot and lost control of the vehicle.”
Hell. Just what they didn’t need. An innocent bystander in this dangerous mix. It was bad enough that Caitlyn was here, but God knew how many people could be hurt. One way or another, Harlan had to stop the shooter.
Whoever he was.
From the glimpse he’d gotten of the man—and it was definitely a man—it could be any of their suspects: Curtis, Farris, Billy. Even Devin. He’d definitely had time to go back inside the inn, don a ski mask and head to the parking lot to fire those shots. Yeah, it’d be risky because someone inside could have seen him, but maybe Devin was desperate enough to try to cover his tracks.
With bullets, and lots of them.
Some of those bullets tore through the car on the street behind them again, and each shot echoed through him. Mercy. He hated that Caitlyn, he and now Slade were right in the middle of danger again.
“The sheriff will be here any second.” Caitlyn was shaking and had a death grip on the gun she was holding.
But Harlan knew the fear wasn’t just for the shooter. It was also for the sheriff’s arrival. Once he was on the scene, he’d have to arrest them.
The sound of sirens pierced through the gunfire. So did the shouts and screams of people nearby. People who’d hopefully taken cover. He didn’t want anyone else hurt today, and the best way to make sure that happened for them was to get out of there. Without them, the shooter would have no targets. No reason to fire.
“Hold on,” Slade warned them a split second before he hit the accelerator.
His brother stayed low in the seat, probably barely able to see over the dash. The truck lurched forward and plowed through the white picket fence that surrounded the inn, but it jarred to a stop because the tires bogged down in the soft ground and grass.
Oh, hell.
Now they were sitting ducks.
The shots didn’t stop. In fact, they seemed to come at them even faster, each of them tearing through into the truck. Any one of the bullets could be lethal, and the only thing Harlan could do was keep his body over Caitlyn’s to protect her as much as possible. If he lifted his head to return fire, he’d be shot and that would leave Slade to fight this battle on his own.
The sirens got closer, but Slade ignored them and kept pumping the gas to get them out of the bog. He gave the steering wheel a sharp turn to the left. The truck tore through yet more of the fence. Gate, too. But he managed to get even clearance from the vehicle that had collided with them. Slade peeled out onto the street and floored it.
The shooter gave them one last parting shot. A bullet slammed through the back window and sent a spray of safety glass onto them. Then, nothing. The rain of bullets finally stopped.
Harlan lifted his head enough to look out the side mirror. Thankfully, it was still intact, and he saw the swirling lights of a police cruiser headed right for the scene.
But he also saw something else.
A man running up the sidewalk away from the inn. Not a jog either. A full out-and-out run. Away from the truck and directly toward the police cruiser. The guy wasn’t wearing a ski mask and wasn’t carrying a gun, so Harlan couldn’t tell if this was their shooter or not. The shooter could have easily ditched both ski mask and weapon to make himself look innocent.
Harlan wanted to turn around and go back to haul this guy in for questioning, but the sheriff must have had the same idea. The cruiser braked to a loud stop, the tires kicking up smoke on the asphalt, and Harlan caught just a glimpse of the two officers spilling out of the car and heading for the runner.
Slade didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down. He sped away. Of course, that didn’t mean they were out of the woods. The sheriff had probably seen them leaving the scene. And if not, Devin or some other eyewitness would give him enough details so that he’d know exactly whom to arrest.
That ate away at Harlan.
He’d hoped this meeting would give them information to help their cause, but now it was just another note in their fugitive status. Worse, he’d entangled Slade in this now.
“We’ll have to ditch the truck as soon as we can,” Slade reminded them.
Just hearing the words hurt, too. Worse than any gunshot wound he’d ever had. Heck, they were acting like criminals, and even though an arrest would be bad, it couldn’t be as bad as this.
Harlan glanced back in the mirror. “Turn around.”
Caitlyn lifted her head, stared at him. “Have you lost your mind?”
“No. I’ve regained it. We’ll just have to conduct the rest of this investigation behind bars. I want to go back, tell the sheriff what happened and check on the bystander who mig
ht have been shot.
“Turn around,” Harlan repeated when Slade kept staring at him, too.
Cursing, mumbling and sounding generally displeased with this notion, Slade hit the brakes and did a screeching U-turn in the road. “You’d better know what the hell you’re doing,” he added.
He did. It was the right thing. And no, it wouldn’t be justice, since he and Caitlyn had been framed, but it was the only way he could live with himself.
Caitlyn huffed, sat up and pushed her hair from her face. “Always knew you were a Boy Scout.” And it didn’t sound like a compliment. Except after another huff, she leaned over, kissed his cheek. “I never was good at this running-from-the-law stuff either. Last time I did it, I ended up in reform school.”
“Ditto,” Slade growled. But unlike Caitlyn, he didn’t seem nearly convinced that this was what they should be doing.
Harlan’s phone buzzed, and he put the call on speaker when he saw Dallas’s name on the screen. “We have a problem.” Harlan greeted his brother.
“Yeah, I just heard. Someone tried to kill you. Wyatt’s monitoring everything on the police radio, and I’m listening to it as it’s happening,” Dallas added. “I’m on my way to Rocky Creek now, not far out, so I should have some more details in the next half hour.”
Good. They would need someone on their side at the police station. “We’re on our way back, too.”
Dallas didn’t say anything for several moments. “Hold off on that and let me handle this. Caitlyn and you should go somewhere and wait.”
“I don’t want Slade in trouble for this,” Harlan protested.
“He won’t be. If someone sees the shot-up truck and reports it, I’ll just tell the sheriff that I ordered Slade to get Caitlyn away from the scene. She’s a civilian and doesn’t need to be in the middle of a gunfight. I’ll also convince the sheriff you went with them so Slade would have some backup in case Caitlyn was attacked again.”
Harlan could hear the chatter from the police radio in the background. “Ranger Morris is calling in as we speak,” Dallas continued, “and I want to find out what he has to say.”
“But someone was shot at the scene,” Harlan argued.
More radio chatter. “Yeah, and the sheriff is taking someone into custody.”
The guy running from the scene, no doubt.
Caitlyn pulled in a hard breath. “Is it Devin Mathis?”
“No,” Dallas answered. “According to the man’s ID, it’s Billy Webb.”
Chapter Eleven
Caitlyn sank onto the far end of the sofa at Declan’s cabin and tried to focus on the lanky dark-haired man on the laptop screen.
Billy Webb.
Maybe he had the answers that would help them clear all of this up. Of course, he might only give them more questions, and that didn’t help steady her any.
The cup of tea she’d just made herself was too strong and bitter, but she drank it anyway for the caffeine hit. She needed to be alert.
The wait and watch could go on for hours.
Maybe she wouldn’t fall apart during that wait, but the odds weren’t good. She already felt like one big raw nerve, and the images of the shooting just wouldn’t stop. Hopefully, those images would end with their wait, and she could find some way to keep herself from losing it.
Some way that didn’t involve leaning on Harlan’s shoulders.
He hadn’t offered his shoulder, and Caitlyn hadn’t pushed. It would have been nice to be able to come unglued in his strong arms—even if that would only make things worse in the long run. Harlan didn’t need her boo-hooing all over the place, and she didn’t need to think of his arms as anything other than off-limits.
Despite the mental pep talk and her attempts to stop it, Caitlyn felt tears burn her eyes, and she blinked them back, praying they didn’t spill onto her cheeks. But they did, and when she went to swipe them away, Harlan looked at her.
“I’m okay,” she quickly lied. He knew it was a lie, too, but he stayed put on his end of the sofa and fastened his attention back on the computer screen.
Thanks to Dallas, who was at the Rocky Creek sheriff’s office, she and Harlan had not only visual but audio, as well. Ditto for his brothers back at the Maverick County marshals’ office. All of them, including Slade, were tuned to it to see what Billy Webb had to say.
Or rather not say.
Because the only talking Billy had done was to ask for a lawyer.
Dallas hadn’t mentioned to Sheriff Bruce Sheldon that the computer feed was also going to the cabin for Harlan and her to view. Probably for the best, since there was still a warrant out for their arrests. Though Harlan obviously didn’t agree with her for the best.
His mood had been past the surly stage since Slade had dropped them off so he could head back to Rocky Creek and see if he could help. Like Harlan, Slade was a lawman to the core, and it was eating away at Harlan that the only thing he could do was sit, watch and stew. The only thing she could do was sit, watch and fight back tears.
“If we’d stayed, the gunman probably would have started firing more shots,” she reminded him—again. “More people could have been hurt.”
Or dead. They’d gotten lucky. According to Dallas, there was only one wounded bystander, and he’d already been treated and released.
Harlan made a sound, sort of a grunt of disagreement.
He glanced at his phone. No messages or calls since the last time he’d checked a few minutes earlier, and he got up and went to the front window.
“If Billy moves, let me know,” he grumbled.
But Billy didn’t move. He sat at the table in the interview room, not looking especially concerned about anything. In fact, nothing about him was what Caitlyn had expected. The boy she remembered had been scared of his own shadow, but this Billy was, well, poised. The expensive-looking gray suit helped. So did the fashionable haircut. Definitely not the appearance of a man with mental issues or someone who’d been in hiding and off the grid.
And that in itself posed yet more questions.
Maybe Dallas would soon have some answers for them when he got back the results of the background check. Answers to questions like where had Billy been all this time. Why was he dressed like a business executive?
And had he been the one to shoot them?
He’d already submitted to a gunshot-residue test, and it had come back negative. That wasn’t the only thing working in his favor of innocence. Dallas had already relayed to them that Billy had had no weapon on him when the sheriff had taken him into custody. Plus, there’d been no evidence in his car to prove he’d been the shooter or even part of the attack.
Maybe he wasn’t. It was possible someone had set him up just as they’d done to Harlan and her.
Harlan did another phone check, huffed and leaned against the window frame. He was no doubt as exhausted as she was, but he didn’t have the same weary look that Caitlyn was sure she had. He just looked, well, rumpled in his jeans and shirt. Of course, Harlan had a way of taking rumpled to a whole new level.
What the devil was she going to do about him?
They couldn’t get within five feet of each other without touching or kissing. Good kissing, too. The kind that reminded her that she only wanted more from him, and more was something she was reasonably sure Harlan couldn’t and wouldn’t give her. Beneath all the rumpled hotness was still a nice guy who probably thought it best not to start something with her that he couldn’t finish.
“I don’t suppose it’d do any good if you tried to rest?” she suggested. “Might be a while before Billy’s lawyer shows.”
“Rest?” His left eyebrow rose.
Uh-oh. Did he think she meant that kind of rest? Maybe. Despite her teary red eyes, she was probably giving off weird vibes that his very male body had no trouble
detecting.
“Could you rest?” And it sounded like a challenge coming from him. So, not that after all. He was just pointing out that neither of them would get much resting done until Billy did some talking.
Yes, it was going to be a long wait.
Or maybe not.
Harlan’s phone finally buzzed, and he answered it so fast that it bobbled in his hand. “Dallas,” he answered, and put the call on speaker.
Caitlyn set her tea aside and turned the laptop monitor in Harlan’s direction so they wouldn’t miss anything if Billy’s lawyer showed. However, she also didn’t want to miss any of this phone conversation, so she hurried closer to Harlan.
“Got the initial background check on Billy,” Dallas started. “The clothes and car aren’t an act. About ten years ago his paternal grandparents let him tap into a huge trust fund they’d set up for him, and he’s been paying with cash this whole time. He’s also been living in a house that’s still in his grandmother’s maiden name.”
“Why didn’t Billy’s mother know any of this?” Harlan immediately asked. But he didn’t wait for an answer. “Maybe she did and just didn’t say.”
Bingo. Of course, they couldn’t ask her now because Sarah Webb was in a coma and might never wake up.
“Sarah could have lied about his whereabouts because she didn’t want him to have to answer questions about that night,” Dallas went on, “especially if he had anything to do with his father’s murder.”
Caitlyn tried not to huff, but she’d wanted more. Something that pointed the finger at Billy or else excluded him as a suspect. “Is there anything in Billy’s background to indicate why he’d go after Harlan, me, Tiffany or Sherry?”
“Nothing.” Dallas’s sigh was louder than hers had been. “The fingerprint could have been gotten without his knowledge, as you two well know. And with no GSR on his hands and no solid evidence to point to him, I doubt the sheriff can hold Billy long. Heck, even Devin is saying he doesn’t think Billy’s the shooter, and he probably got the best look at the guy.”
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