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"Thank you. Really. For believing in me, for helping."
He gave a small, genuine smile. "That’s what I’m here for, Heather."
Chapter Nineteen
Danny
The morning sun hadn't yet chased away the chill of the night when I parked my truck outside Heather's ranch. It was my day off, but the quiet of an unsolved case never really let you rest, especially not when it tangled up someone you were... hell, someone like Heather. She was becoming more than just a part of the case, and that complicated things—professionally and personally.
I found her in the kitchen, papers spread out on the table like a war map, a determined look on her face that matched the resolve I felt. "Morning," I greeted, noting the circles under her eyes that suggested she hadn't slept much either.
"Hey," she replied without looking up. "I was just going over these notes again." She gestured to the papers. "Listen to this, 'Ensure the silence or the tide will turn.' Sounds like a threat, doesn't it?"
I leaned over the table, scanning the cryptic handwriting. "Yeah, it does. And it suggests she knew something. Something important enough to be silenced about." It was a thread, and in this job, you pulled on threads.
Heather nodded, biting her lip in thought. "There’s more here. Look, this one says, 'The path you choose now is the path to your end.' It’s ominous."
"We need to figure out who was sending these," I said, sifting through more notes and trying to piece together a timeline or any other names mentioned that could lead us to the sender.
We spent the morning digging through Dina’s office, pulling out drawers and examining old files that hadn't seen the light of day in years. It felt like we were archaeologists sifting through the layers of someone's life, looking for the bones of their secrets.
Heather had been sifting through another pile of papers, her frustration evident in the way she tapped her fingers against the table. "I just can't wrap my head around it, Danny," she sighed, shaking her head. "Aunt Dina was many things, but tied to something illegal? It doesn't fit. It just doesn't fit."
I paused, looking over at her. For the first time, I felt compelled to offer not just my skills as a detective but something akin to comfort. "Maybe she wasn’t involved the way we think," I suggested, shifting my stance to face her more directly. "Maybe she stumbled onto something—found out something she wasn’t supposed to."
Heather looked up, a sliver of hope flickering in her eyes. "But why wouldn't she go to the police? Why wouldn't she try to stop it?"
I exhaled slowly, considering my next words carefully. "Maybe the threats... they were meant to scare her into silence. And from what I’ve seen, I was probably too aggressive in my initial investigation. She might not have trusted me, or the police, to handle it without putting her or the ranch at risk."
Heather nodded slowly, absorbing the possibility. "That... that would make sense, I guess. It’s just hard to accept that she was living with this kind of pressure, this kind of fear, and I had no idea."
"We’ll get to the bottom of this, Heather. We’ll find out the truth," I assured her, feeling a renewed sense of determination.
It was then that I returned to the filing cabinet, pulling open drawers in search of anything else that might shed light on the situation. That’s when I found the stuck drawer at the back of the cabinet. With a bit of force, it gave way, revealing its hidden contents. Beneath a stack of old tax records lay a folder, nondescript and buried. I flipped it open, and my pulse quickened.
"Heather, come take a look at this," I called out.
She hurried over, wiping her hands on her jeans. Inside the folder were blueprints and detailed layouts of the ranch.
"This could be something," I muttered, my brain ticking through the possibilities. The blueprints showed parts of the ranch that weren't on any current map or public record—a hidden extension to the barn, for starters.
"What is it?" Heather leaned closer, her shoulder brushing against mine as she looked down at the blueprints.
Not long after, we were outside, a plan in mind. Heather and I made our way casually past a couple of ranch hands who were lounging around, laughing and sharing stories from the weekend. Heather, with a natural ease, struck up a conversation about a new foal born last night. Her voice was light but carrying an undercurrent of tension that only I could probably detect.
"Yeah, she's a beauty, got her mama's eyes," Heather said, gesturing broadly toward the stalls. The hands nodded, their interest piqued enough to momentarily forget their break.
We continued walking, my boots crunching softly on the straw. As we reached the far end of the barn, Heather glanced at me, a silent signal that we were close. Behind a stack of hay bales, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it, was what appeared to be a solid wall. But the blueprints whispered a different story.
With a glance to ensure no one was watching, I moved the bales aside. Hidden behind them was a door, old and dusty but solid. Heather pulled the mysterious key from her pocket, her hands slightly trembling. It slid into the lock with an audible click, and with a deep breath, she turned it. The lock disengaged with a heavy thunk, echoing slightly in the quiet barn.
Pushing the door open, we stepped into a room that felt like stepping back in time. The air was stale, heavy with the scent of old wood and secrets. A few couches, worn and faded, circled a low table that was littered with remnants of papers and a few ashtrays filled with long-cold ashes.
In the center of the room, dominating one wall, was a large corkboard. It was covered with pinned notes and lists of names, places, and times. Each piece of paper was yellowed with age and the ink faded, though it was still legible if you squinted hard enough. The most recent date was several months past, rendering any immediate surveillance of the listed locations pointless.
Heather exhaled sharply, her frustration audible. "This... this is something else. But it's all old, Danny. What do we do with this?"
I stepped closer to the board, scanning the information. "We document everything. Every name, every place. It might not be actionable directly, but it shows something was going on here, something organized."
