Heath’s chuckle sounded forced. “Not even close.”
Liam would let that comment go without digging deeper. Heath was always too hard on himself. They had time to talk about that later. Liam hoped.
“Still, it seems so empty without Dad,” Heath said.
Nicer. Quieter. “Peaceful, even.” Liam glanced through the window at the barn in the distance.
“I’d say that’s the good part. Still, whatever his issues, his downright meanness at times, I miss him.” Heath released a heavy sigh.
Liam had nothing to say to that, so he kept silent. No point in stirring angry embers of the past. Heath was allowed that sentiment. Liam wasn’t ready to miss their father yet. So maybe this wouldn’t be a showdown, after all.
Though he was back and thought he was ready, he realized he didn’t want to talk too much about their lives there. Not yet. Time to change the subject.
“Care to tell me what’s going on with you and Harper? Oh, and the woman whose house you’re staying in, for that matter.”
“You know why we’re staying there. Nothing’s going on with either woman.”
“So Harper—she was your friend when you were kids.” Heath cocked a brow. Surprised? Liam chuckled. “Yeah. I paid attention.”
“All this time I thought you were busy with the horses. You were good with them, even as a kid.”
“You remember how it was. We each had to pour ourselves into something to get us out of the house. Horses in the summer. And skiing in the winter. Brad took me, remember? His family could afford the ski lift passes. I had a friend too, only he wasn’t some cute girl. Harper was cute back then. She isn’t cute anymore.”
Heath crossed his arms.
Liam continued walking the room. “See. I knew you liked her. She’s not cute, she’s a real looker. And serious. But maybe she was that serious as a kid too. So why’d you leave her with that deputy to come with me?” He wished he hadn’t asked that. He knew exactly why. Maybe he wanted to hear actual words this time. Not just second-guessing what his brother was thinking.
“I’ll tell you why, but you go first.”
“What?”
Heath walked around the big kitchen counter. Liam ran his hand over the rich pine butcher-block countertop. Nice. He looked up at Heath, waiting for an answer, but he didn’t need one. Still, he’d wait.
“You always were stubborn, but that’s beside the point. I want to know what’s bothering you.”
“Oh. I thought you wanted to know why I’m back. You asked me that before.”
“And you never answered.”
Liam had experience controlling his emotions. Keeping the darkness that threatened at bay. Working undercover in the Drug Enforcement Administration had taken him down dark roads for which he hadn’t been prepared. He shook off the shadows pressing in on him. “Let’s say I needed a long break. There’s nothing I can share with you anyway. Heath, I’m . . . I’m glad I had a place to come back to.” Despite the darkness of his childhood here, this place now seemed like the purest, brightest light, especially compared to the people he’d had to pretend were his friends.
He released a heavy sigh he was sure must have echoed through the mountains and disturbed the neighbors for miles away. Heath peered at him. The man’s concern might actually cut through the hard shell Liam had built around himself, inside and out. Heath moved around the counter and came just short of hugging Liam. Again. Instead, he clapped him on the back, and that touch of his strong hand contained a comfort that words could never express.
It was exactly what Liam needed, and he hadn’t even known.
“You stay long enough to be good and well rid of whatever forced you back.”
Liam chuckled. “Nothing forced you back.”
“Maybe not, but you . . . I know you. You wouldn’t have come back otherwise. I can’t say I’m not grateful that something sent you here, but it had to have been pretty bad. You’re always welcome here. You know that.”
“Speaking of which, how long until we can all actually come back?”
“Soon, I hope.”
“And once this is over, do you think Harper will leave?”
“Probably.”
“And you’re going to let her walk away?”
“I have no reason to keep her here. Besides, there’s a lot you don’t know about me. Things that happened. I’m not marriage material.”
Right.
“You look through the rest of the house. Take your time. I’m going to check on Pete.”
“See you in a few minutes.”
Heath flipped off the lights when he walked through the door. It was still daylight, but windows didn’t let in enough light for Liam. Liam flipped on more lights. That’s better.
His cell rang. He glanced at the caller ID.
That darkness wanted to follow him even here.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
WEDNESDAY, 9:43 A.M.
CIRCLE S RANCH
Harper was alone with Deputy Naomi Thrasher, who was on protective duty in place of Heath for today. The deputy would take her to see Dr. Jacob to get the stitches out this morning. Looking through pictures that had been retrieved from the memory card, Harper studied photographs of Emily smiling next to the Airstream at Granite Ridge Campground.
Her sister texted last night that she had arrived home safely.
After so many months with Emily, it felt strange that she wasn’t there now. She almost felt the same about Heath’s absence. He’d needed to check on something at his ranch and didn’t want her with him there.
As for Deputy Thrasher taking Heath’s place for a few hours last night and then again this morning, sure, Heath probably needed a break from babysitting duty. A break from her. He also wanted to be actively involved in finding the person behind the shooting. Or the person behind the bombing.
Or both.
She understood that need completely and shouldn’t have been hurt by his relief at escaping the Circle S and Harper, because she had felt the same way. They both needed space to recover from the awkwardness of being unable to continue to act on their emotions.
She’d hurt him when she brushed him off after the kiss. Shoot. She’d hurt herself. But it was for the best. They both knew that.
Then Liam’s sudden appearance on the scene shifted Heath’s focus—it was subtle, but she’d noticed. For all Harper had known, Liam was a regular at the Emerald M, but Heath set her straight. He hadn’t seen or heard from Liam in going on five years—since their father’s funeral. And while he was there now, a restlessness emanated from them both. An edginess that she hadn’t seen in Heath, even with all that was going on.
Deputy Thrasher approached the table and peered over her shoulder at the pictures. “I’m told you’re an exceptional crime scene photographer.”
Harper heard the approval in the deputy’s words and it made her heart swell with satisfaction that at least while she’d been on the job, she’d done it well. Then she realized the deputy could very well know the rest of the story.
Though Harper had been dealing with psychological issues, the murder she’d captured on camera was forcing her to move past those issues out of sheer necessity.
So what if she had cowered beneath her bed as a kid when her dad was murdered? The familiar pang made her cringe, but she pushed passed it. Harper longed to be the person to find the truth—on her camera or otherwise.
I can do this. I can be that person.
She glanced up at the young deputy. “I’m not sure what else you might have heard, but thank you.”
“Nice RV. I’m sorry it was destroyed.” Deputy Thrasher studied the photograph. “We searched for evidence at the campsite but didn’t find anything. There has to be something. I might be new, but I’ve come to believe there’s always evidence at a scene. It’s a matter of finding it.”
Harper liked her. “I couldn’t agree more. But even knowing that, the evidence isn’t always found.”
“Mr. Stein, the g
uy who runs the Granite Ridge Campground for the forest service, told us that no one would be allowed to camp there for a while, even after we released it. He said it would take him a few days to get over what happened to you.”
“He seemed nice enough. I only met him a couple of times, but he helped Emily get into the trailer when the door got jammed.” Harper clicked through more images of the campground. Hmm.
“He did?” Deputy Thrasher asked.
The tone in her voice drew Harper’s attention up. “What’s the look on your face? What are you thinking?”
“Your door was jammed so you couldn’t get out that night.” Deputy Thrasher wrote something on her pad. “We questioned him, I’m sure of it. He was the witness who saw you drive away. He thought he saw you, but now we believe that the perp had worn a wig.”
“You don’t think . . . You’re not saying . . . No. He seemed so nice.”
“Sorry, but that shooter in that picture could be anyone beyond, say, fifty, behind that hat. You know that.”
Unfortunately, she did. She pressed her hand against her stomach. “I can’t believe it could be him.”
Thrasher got on her cell. “I’m going to ask for someone to check into his background. Find out what we know about him. Someone needs to question him again.”
“Please make sure they don’t go alone.” Harper shut her computer and stood. Could Mr. Stein be their guy? She’d had it with being stuck there like a prisoner. She hadn’t stayed behind to do nothing. “Would you mind taking me to the sheriff’s office after I get these stitches out? I could hang out with Meghan and look through pictures.”
“You got it. Just looking through the pictures has given us another possible lead.”
After taking Harper to see Dr. Jacob to get her stitches removed, Deputy Thrasher parked her department vehicle in the parking lot of the sheriff’s office.
Harper got a text at the same time as the deputy got one.
WHERE ARE YOU?
“Is yours from Heath?” Harper asked.
“Yes. I should have let him know.”
“Tell him to meet us here,” Harper said.
Inside the sheriff’s department, Taggart approached them as they came down the hallway. He eyed them with purpose.
Before he could speak, Deputy Thrasher said, “We need to check into Mr. Stein, who oversees Granite Ridge. He helped them unstick their door a day or two before the incident. I don’t know, I thought we—”
“Go ahead and run a background on him. Do what you can from here. Stay with Harper. We got an anonymous but strong tip about another possible suspect a few hours ago. We’ve been investigating, but we don’t have probable cause to search or arrest. I sent a couple of deputies over to bring him in voluntarily for questioning. Or see about a consent to search. We’re looking for evidence to corroborate the tip. Let’s see how this plays out. It could be nothing at all. But in case this is our guy, you stay here with Harper. This is the safest place for her.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
WEDNESDAY, 11:35 A.M.
CURT’S CUSTOM RIFLES
Liam meandered up to Curt’s Custom Rifles, which was not even a mom-and -pop establishment but a large workshop at the back of a small ranch house. Liam had already visited five out of eight custom rifle makers in the area. He had asked the same questions, but more than that, he had tried to get a sense of the maker’s style and personality. The guns’ purpose. The aesthetics.
Curt’s was a very private establishment.
Appointment only.
Liam might not be welcomed. Sheriff Taggart was probably right—this was a colossal waste of time. Still, if their perpetrator had bought his custom-made rifle in Jackson Hole, Liam would find that out. It was good old-fashioned police work. Grunt work that nobody else wanted to do.
He knocked on the door before pushing it open to step inside.
A man in his early thirties, about Liam’s age, hovered over a rifle barrel secured in a lathe on a large worktable. “Can I help you?”
Good. He wasn’t going to get berated for showing up without an appointment.
He thrust out his hand and the guy took it. “Name’s Liam. I wanted to check out your work.”
“My name’s Chad.” After noticing the question in Liam’s eyes, he said, “Curt’s my father.”
Liam dropped his hand and glanced around the room, noted a display, and got that good deep-in-the-gut feeling he’d been looking for.
“You don’t have an appointment.”
“No. I wanted to check you out before I made one.” Liam smiled, angling to get on the guy’s good side.
Chad eyed a couple of stainless-steel barrels next to the lathe. “What would you like to see? I have rifles ready for purchase if you don’t want to wait. And”—Chad studied him—“someone who has an appointment will be here in five minutes.”
This shouldn’t take that long. “What about a rifle custom made to my specifications?”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Namely this.” Liam pulled out his copy of the photo of the hunter and his custom-made rifle and stuck it on the counter. He pushed it forward. “Is this one of yours?”
Chad adjusted his glasses. Emotion flashed in his eyes, then was gone. “Are you asking me to make this for you? Or are you asking if I made this particular rifle?”
Smart man. “Did you make this rifle?”
Frowning, the man looked at the picture. “This looks similar to what we call our extreme long-range hunter rifle. I’m talking twelve-hundred–plus yards. That’s our specialty. But I can’t be sure that we made it. Beyond seeing the registration code, I’d have to take it apart.”
“What about the scope? Would you have to special order it?”
“Yes. Or someone could add that later.”
Liam was glad to hear the guy wasn’t going to lie to him, but he wasn’t telling the whole truth either. “But chances are since you’d make the bullets too and would need to test the gun’s precision since the extreme long-range rifle is your specialty, you would need the scope to do that.”
“Are you a cop or something?” Chad arched a brow.
A loaded question. “I’m searching for the man who killed two hikers.”
Chad’s face paled. “I haven’t had a client request that scope.” Chad handed the photo back.
Liam wished he had a magnified image with him. “What about the rifle? This is your style, right? That fleur-de-lis checkering with ribbons on the stock.”
“Anyone could have done that.”
Chad was shutting down on him, but he’d learned a lot, nonetheless. None of the weapons on display had that precise design, but close enough. Yes. Definitely close enough.
“I see my next customer driving up.” Chad handed Liam a card. “Make an appointment if you want to get a rifle from me.”
Liam scribbled his number on the back of Chad’s card and handed it back. “If you remember anything that can help, call me.”
Maybe Liam was wrong to spend time canvassing these shops, but a man who was trying to kill the woman his brother cared deeply about—maybe even loved—wasn’t someone to sit around and wait on.
Liam thanked Chad and headed to the door. Through the window he could see a stocky man in his fifties approaching. Liam put his hand on the doorknob.
“There was this guy . . .” Chad said.
Liam turned to look at him.
“He was maybe late sixties. He asked a lot of questions. I thought he was going to commission a piece. I told him six, seven months tops. He said he couldn’t wait that long.”
“Meaning . . .”
“I’m not sure. After he left, I thought to myself that he would try to build his own. He knew enough that he could if he had the right tools.”
A ghost gun.
“Got a name?”
Chad crooked his mouth. “John Smith.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
WEDNESDAY, 11:47 A.M.
BRIDGER-TETON NATI
ONAL FOREST
If this was their man, Heath wanted to look him in the eyes. What kind of monster would do the things he’d done? Heath might even consider doing much more than looking, except he was working for the sheriff’s department now, and what he had in mind wouldn’t reflect his duties as a deputy.
It might be worth resigning.
Oh yeah, even volunteers could resign.
Heath had been on his way to meet Harper at the sheriff’s department when Sheriff Taggart asked him to meet two deputies at Donny Albright’s address up Moose Creek Road instead.
Someone had seen Donny in the woods with two hikers, one of whom was Sophie Batterson Osborne. Donny was dressed in hunting gear, carrying a rifle and scope. None of that meant he was guilty, of course, but it meant they needed to at least question him.
Heath had a bad feeling about this since Taggart was now also heading to Donny’s. Heath was halfway there when he found himself following Taggart. He pulled up behind him to park in the drive. The house was old but immaculate. The yard, what there was of it, was mowed and neat before the national forest encroached. And it was located within five miles of where Harper had witnessed the murder. This guy would have moose, elk, bear, and antelope right at his back door. He wouldn’t even need a precision long-range hunting rifle of that caliber and price, but need and want were often confused.
Taggart stood at his vehicle, checking his phone.
Heath approached and stood next to him. “What are we doing? Is this our guy?”
“We ran a background check on him but came up empty. I sent Moffett and Shackelford to bring him in voluntarily to answer questions.”
The sheriff tucked away his cell, his face twisted with displeasure.
“But now we’re here,” Heath said. “Why? What happened?”
“Let’s go see.”
Sheriff Taggart hiked along the side of the house. Heath was confused. Shouldn’t they be knocking on the front door? Something had definitely happened.
“Taggart!” Shackelford’s voice squawked over the sheriff’s radio.
Always Look Twice Page 20
