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"Yeah, but are you sure we're clear tonight?" another questioned. "I mean, Heather's not around, sure, but that cop—"
"Fuck the cop. He's got nothing. As long as we keep our tracks covered, we'll be fine. Just make sure you're not followed when you bring the last batch in," the first voice interrupted.
There was a shuffle of movement, the sound of heavy objects being moved. "And keep it quiet," a third voice chimed in. "Remember what happened last time. The boss doesn't tolerate screw-ups. We're supposed to be just a bunch of guys working the ranch, not some drug lords."
"Exactly," the first voice confirmed. "We lay low, shift the product, and get paid. It's a simple job if you don't get fancy. The boss said he'd handle the big deals himself. We just need to get the stuff to the drop-off points."
I scribbled notes furiously, each word they spoke adding weight to the case. They continued to discuss logistics, mentioning times, locations, and a few coded references to quantities and payments. The operation was more extensive and more organized than I had anticipated, running like a well-oiled machine under the guise of ranch work.
The conversation shifted as they finalized their plans. "Once this batch is through, we're golden. Just keep your heads down until then. The boss is planning a meet-up soon to discuss the next phase."
I leaned closer to the screen, straining to catch every detail. This was the break we'd been waiting for—proof of the operation's scope and the identity of those involved. Yet, as they continued, it became evident that the real power—the boss—remained a shadow, referenced with a mix of respect and fear. It was clear he wasn't here, wasn't one to get his hands dirty with the day-to-day dealings.
My phone was heavy in my hand as I dialed Chief Miller. He picked up on the first ring. "Report, Lopes."
"We've got them," I started, my voice low but firm. "Caught them red-handed talking deals. But it's not enough, not yet. They keep mentioning a boss, someone who's not here. We take these guys now, we might never get the big fish."
There was a pause on the line—a silent weighing of risks and benefits. "You want to hold off?" Chief Miller finally asked, his tone cautious.
"Not yet on the arrests," I confirmed. My gaze didn't stray from the screen, watching as one of the hands gestured animatedly, a clear sign of planning more than just tonight's activities. "We need to see where this goes and who else is involved.”
"Alright, keep your eyes open and your head down. Call in if anything changes. I'll have backup on standby."
"Understood." I hung up. It was a gamble, letting these guys walk away tonight, but the potential reward—taking down the entire operation—was worth the risk.
As I watched the barn settle back into silence, the figures slipping away as quietly as they had arrived, a new determination hardened within me. This was more than just another case now. It was personal, tangled up with my feelings for Heather and her future. She deserved the truth, and she deserved a clean start, free from the shadows that her aunt might have unknowingly left behind.
Tonight, I had seen enough to know we were on the right path. But there was more to do, more to uncover. The boss was still out there, and I wouldn't rest until we brought him into the light.
Chapter Thirty
Heather
Istepped out onto the porch, a steaming mug of coffee in hand, trying to embrace the new day with whatever semblance of normalcy I could muster. T
As I walked toward the stables, I noticed Tyler aligning the saddles. The air between us was charged, laden with unspoken words and the remnants of a bond that had once seemed unbreakable.
"Morning," I called out, my voice sounding more cheerful than I felt.
Tyler glanced up, his smile strained. "Heather," he greeted. "You’re up early."
"Just trying to keep things running smoothly," I replied, my gaze drifting across the paddocks where a few horses grazed peacefully, oblivious to the human complexities surrounding them.
Tyler wiped his hands on a cloth, his muscles tensing as he approached. "About yesterday... I didn't mean to come off so harsh. It’s just—" He paused, searching for the right words. "Things have been tense around here, and Joe running off didn’t help."
I sighed, leaning against the wooden rail. "I know, Tyler. It’s not just you. This whole situation with the investigation... it’s taking its toll on everyone."
He stepped closer, his presence too intense. "Heather, if there’s anything you need, anything at all, you know I'm here, right?" His voice was low, his blue eyes searching mine for something I wasn't sure I could give.
The guilt of my recent closeness with Danny gnawed at me, making Tyler's offer feel like a forbidden temptation. "Thanks, Tyler. I appreciate it," I murmured, forcing a smile.
The conversation shifted back to daily operations, but the undercurrent of our personal turmoil remained, an invisible barrier that neither of us could quite navigate around.
Later that day, after dealing with a myriad of ranch duties, I returned to the main house, exhausted but determined to sift through more of Aunt Dina’s old files. Maybe I could unearth something that would shed light on her secret struggles.
But as I reached the front door, a slip of paper fluttered to the ground, catching my eye. I bent down, my heart pounding as I unfolded the note. It read, "Stop digging or else." The words were typed, impersonal and chilling.
A shiver ran down my spine as I looked around, half-expecting to catch someone watching from the shadows. But there was nothing—just the gentle rustle of the wind through the trees. How had this note ended up on my door? None of the ranch hands had access to the house, a rule I'd been strict about since taking over.
