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Without a second thought, I was out of the car, my service pistol drawn as I approached them.
"Police! Hands up!"
Panic erupted. The figures bolted, scattering like shadows before the rising sun. Joe, caught off guard, stumbled toward his truck. I sprinted after him, adrenaline fueling my swift pursuit. He was just reaching for the door when I tackled him against the side of the truck, the impact knocking the breath out of him.
"Fuck, man, I didn’t do anything!" Joe gasped, his eyes wide with fear and confusion.
I held up a bag from the box, the contents clearly visible through the transparent plastic. "Then what's this, Joe? Huh?" I demanded, my voice hard.
He went silent, his face falling as the reality of his situation set in.
I hesitated, my hand hovering over my handcuffs. Arresting Joe could blow the whole case wide open, but it could also drag Heather and the ranch through the mud even more. I was torn, knowing what I had to do as a cop but also what I felt I needed to do for Heather.
I glanced back toward the tree, the remaining figures now just part of the morning mist, their presence almost a memory. Turning back to Joe, I saw a man caught in a nightmare, not entirely of his own making.
“Look, I don’t want to do this,” I admitted, the words heavy in the cool morning air. “But you have to tell me everything. Who else is involved? How deep does this go?”
Joe’s shoulders slumped, resigned. “I... I can’t, man. You don’t know what they’ll do.”
“Listen to me, Joe,” I urged, tightening my grip on his arm as I pulled him closer to the squad car. My voice was low, the growl of a man pushed to his limits. “You don’t have to go down with them. Help me out here. Who’s running this operation?”
He shook his head vehemently, his eyes darting around as if looking for an escape route in the empty space between us and the trees. “Fuck, Danny, I can’t. You think they won’t find out? They’ll fucking kill me!”
I loosened my hold slightly, trying a different angle. “You think running will save you? You’ll be looking over your shoulder forever. Help me stop them.”
For a moment, I thought he might cave, his face contorting with the internal struggle. But then, something hardened in his expression, a resolve that came with a cold certainty. “I can’t, man. I just… fuck, I can’t.”
Before I could react, Joe twisted out of my grip with a surprising jolt of energy. His elbow caught me off guard, landing a solid hit to my ribs. The air whooshed out of me, and pain splintered through my chest. I staggered back, momentarily winded, and that was all the time he needed.
He bolted for his truck, his movements desperate and clumsy. Scrambling to recover, I lunged after him, but the distance was too great. He slammed the door shut, the engine roared to life, and gravel sprayed as he spun the truck around and sped off, leaving a cloud of dust in the air.
I stood there for a moment, hands on my knees, catching my breath. Pain throbbed in my side where he’d hit me, but it was nothing compared to the frustration boiling inside me. He’d slipped through my fingers, and with him, maybe my best shot at cracking this case wide open.
Cursing under my breath, I kicked at the dirt, then made my way back to my car. The first hints of sunlight were beginning to touch the treetops, casting long shadows and highlighting the utter failure of the morning’s efforts.
As I drove back to the station, the events replayed in my mind. Joe’s fear, his desperation, the physical scuffle—it all painted a picture of a man trapped by more than just legal fears. The network we were up against was bigger and more dangerous than I’d imagined. And now, with Joe on the run, the case had taken on a new level of complexity.
The drive was a blur of greenery and morning light, my thoughts as tangled as the branches arching over the road. I needed a plan, something solid and actionable. But first, I needed to face the music back at the station and find a way to set things right, not just for the case but for Heather—and maybe, just maybe, for us.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Heather
The ride back to Horseshoe Lake Ranch left me with too much time to think, my mind racing as the scenery blurred past. By the time I rolled up the familiar gravel path, a tight knot had formed in the pit of my stomach. The place I once thought of as a refuge now felt like a battleground.
As I stepped out of my car, the distant sound of laughter and clinking tools suggested a day like any other. I headed towards the stables, hoping to catch some normalcy, but instead, my ears picked up fragments of conversations that weren’t meant for me.
"...heard he took off right after Danny caught him by the oak tree. They said he had a truck full of stuff..."
The voices hushed as I came into view, and a couple of ranch hands who were chatting beside a tractor suddenly found their shoes fascinating. I nodded curtly, the pieces clicking together painfully. Joe had been caught up in something illegal, and now he was on the run.
I retreated to the main house. I needed to talk to Danny, to get the full story from someone I trusted. I dialed his number, pacing the length of the porch as I waited for him to pick up.
“Danny, it’s Heather. I just heard about Joe. Is it true?”
There was a brief silence on the line. “Yeah, it’s true. Caught him last night. He got away, though.”
“Shit.” I exhaled, leaning against the railing. “Thanks for telling me. Anything else I need to know?”
