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“We need to talk, Heather. There’s more to it. Can we meet?”
“Sure, Danny. Whenever you can.”
“We’ll figure this out, Heather,” he reassured me before we ended the call.
With the phone still in my hand, I felt a surge of resolve. This ranch was my responsibility. I needed answers, and I needed them fast. It was time to dig deeper, not just into Joe’s sudden disappearance but into everything that had been happening under my nose.
I made my way back inside, pulling out all the records and files I could find that Dina had left behind. As I sifted through paperwork and old farm logs, a picture began to form—a network of transactions and names that didn’t quite add up.
The rattle of the doorbell broke my focus. Expecting Danny, I quickly straightened the papers into somewhat organized piles and wiped the weariness from my eyes before heading to the door. Instead of Danny's familiar frame, however, it was Tyler standing on the porch, his face showing concern under the brim of his hat.
"Hey, Tyler, what's up?" I asked, stepping aside to let him in.
He hesitated at the threshold, then stepped inside. "I was about to sign off for the day, but I noticed you were a bit standoffish today. Just wanted to check if everything's alright."
With everything that had happened with Joe, my mind was full of suspicion and worry. "I've just been... it’s been a long day. With Joe and everything, I needed time to think," I admitted, leading him into the kitchen.
Tyler chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "You don’t really think he’s guilty, do you?"
The question caught me off guard. "He was caught red-handed and fled, Tyler. Of course, he's guilty."
He shook his head, leaning against the counter. "Heather, Joe had a DUI years ago. He can't afford to get into trouble. There’s talk about cops planting evidence sometimes to make their cases."
The idea struck a nerve. Could Danny do something like that? He was desperate for a breakthrough, but to plant evidence? The thought made me reel. Yet, in the pit of my stomach, I felt the twinge of doubt creeping in.
"Tyler, that’s a serious accusation," I said slowly, weighing each word. "Danny is a lot of things, but corrupt? I can't..."
"He’s obsessed with this case, Heather. You know that. People do crazy things under pressure." Tyler's gaze was steady.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "It’s not up to us to determine Joe’s guilt or innocence, Tyler. That’s for the police, a judge, and a jury to decide."
He nodded, though I could tell he wasn't entirely convinced. "Just be careful, Heather. I don’t want to see you get hurt because you trusted the wrong person."
His words hung in the air as he said his goodbyes and left. Closing the door behind him, I leaned against it. Could I really trust Danny? Or was I too close to see the truth?
I felt alone, truly alone, and for the first time in a long while, I admitted to myself that I couldn’t do this on my own. I needed someone. Not just any someone—I needed Danny. Without a second thought, I reached for my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I dialed his number. The phone rang twice before he answered.
"Danny, can you come over?" My voice sounded more desperate than I intended, a raw edge to it that I couldn't mask.
"Hey, Heather, is everything alright?"
"No, it's not alright. I just... I need you here. Please." There was a pause, a breath held between us over the line.
"I'm on my way," he said without hesitation, and the line went dead.
I paced by the front door, my thoughts racing. As soon as I heard the front door open, my resolve crumbled.
He barely made it through the door before I pulled him into a desperate kiss right there in the foyer. His surprise melted into urgency as he returned the kiss with equal fervor, our hands everywhere on each other. I was tearing at his buttons, nearly ripping them off in my haste, my lips finding every inch of skin I uncovered. My hands moved to his belt, fingers clumsy with need.
"Danny," I murmured against his skin, my breath hot and shaky.
"Heather," he replied, his voice thick, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me closer. "What's going on?"
I couldn’t answer, not with words. Instead, I kissed him again, harder, deeper, trying to communicate through touch what I couldn’t say out loud. This wasn’t just about need. It was about connection, about not wanting to feel so damn alone with the weight of all I was facing.
We didn't make it far beyond the foyer. My hands, eager and shaking, fumbled with the buckle of his belt, pulling it free with a sharp clink of metal. His pants followed, the fabric sliding down his legs as he stepped out of them, his breath catching in his throat. The air between us charged with electricity. Every glance, every touch sparked something wild within me.
I dropped to my knees, my gaze fixed on his as he looked down at me, a mix of astonishment and desire etched across his face. His hands found my hair, fingers weaving through softly, a gentle contrast to the hunger in his eyes. I was driven, moving with a need that felt both primal and achingly specific.
