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I reached out, taking her hand in mine, needing her to understand. "We're in this together. I've got your back, no matter what happens."
Chapter Thirty-Two
Heather
Ileft the ranch just after dawn, the chill morning air sharpening my senses as I steered my truck toward town. The ride was quiet, too quiet, like the whole world was holding its breath. I needed to shake off the lingering fear from the threats and Danny's news of being followed. There was work to do and questions that needed answers, and I wasn't about to sit back and wait for trouble to find me.
The town was waking up as I parked on Main Street, the usual bustle of people starting their day. I needed a cover for my snooping, something innocuous. Groceries. I grabbed a basket at the local market and began weaving through the aisles, my eyes scanning more for familiar faces than products on the shelves.
"Morning, Heather!" Mr. Jacobs, the store owner, greeted me with a warm smile as he restocked shelves. "Haven't seen you around much lately."
"Morning, Mr. Jacobs," I returned his smile, pushing my basket along. "Yeah, it’s been busy at the ranch." I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "Actually, I was wondering if you've heard anything strange going on around town? Odd behaviors, new faces?"
Mr. Jacobs paused, his expression turning thoughtful. "You know, now that you mention it, there's been some unusual night activity. Trucks passing through late at night, more than usual. But nothing specific, Heather. Why? Something wrong?"
I shook my head quickly, not wanting to spread fear or rumors. "Just keeping an ear to the ground, you know? Ranch life—it makes you cautious."
"Understandable," he nodded, going back to his work.
I made my way back to the truck, my mind racing. I drove past Joe's Bar, noting a couple of unfamiliar trucks in the parking lot. I couldn't just barge in and ask questions; I needed to be smart about this. Danny was right—we were in this deep, and every move had to be calculated.
I decided to loop around and make another slow pass by Joe's Bar. The glint of the afternoon sun off the unfamiliar trucks gave me a sense of foreboding. I parked a block away and watched for a few minutes. Men were coming and going, none I recognized from town. This wasn't just a social gathering; it had the hallmarks of something covert, something organized.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Danny's number, but then hesitated. This was something I needed to see through myself first—I couldn't keep leaning on him for every uncertain step. After a deep breath, I slipped the phone back into my pocket and stepped out of the truck.
The bell above the bar door jingled mockingly as I entered. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of stale beer and sweat. I took a seat at the far end of the bar, keeping my back to the wall, watching through the mirror behind the bar as conversations hushed slightly at my entrance.
"What can I get you?" the bartender asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Just a soda, thanks," I replied, trying to look casual. My heart was racing, but I forced myself to focus on the reflections in the mirror. I needed to see if I could catch any snippet of conversation, any name that might give me a lead.
As I sipped the soda, pretending to text on my phone, I caught fragments of discussions about "shipments" and "moving up the schedule." Nothing concrete, nothing I could use without exposing myself to potential danger.
The door swung open again, and in walked a man I recognized from the community meetings—Tom Halverson, a local businessman known for his real estate investments. What was he doing here? His presence piqued my curiosity further.
Tom greeted a few of the men with a familiarity that seemed out of place. He made his way to a secluded corner, and several of the men joined him. I strained to listen without being obvious, catching bits of their conversation about "securing the next deal" and "keeping things tight until the heat dies down."
This was it; this was what I was looking for. Tom's involvement could mean that the network was more integrated into the local economy than I'd feared. I knew I couldn't tackle this alone. After paying for my drink, I slipped out of the bar and back to my truck, my mind racing.
Once safely inside, I dialed Danny's number. This time, I didn't hesitate.
"Danny, it's Heather. We need to talk. I think I've stumbled onto something big here," I said, my voice low as I started the truck and pulled away from the curb.
"What is it?" Danny's voice was alert, instantly on edge.
"It's Tom Halverson. I saw him meeting with some suspicious types at Joe's Bar. They were talking business, Danny, the kind that has nothing to do with real estate. I think he might be involved in the drug ring," I explained, keeping one eye on the rearview mirror.
There was a pause on the line. "Okay, Heather, good work. Let's meet up and plan our next move. Where are you now?"
"I'm heading back to the ranch. I'll see you here?"
"Yeah, I'm on my way," Danny replied.
Back at the ranch, I stepped out of the truck, trying to calm my racing mind. My nerves were shot, and all I wanted was a moment to collect my thoughts before Danny arrived. But as soon as I set foot on the gravel drive, I heard a commotion coming from the stables. Several ranch hands were shouting, their voices frantic and panicked.
"Shit," I muttered under my breath, breaking into a run. My boots pounded the ground, the sound of my heartbeat thudding in my ears. As I rounded the corner, I saw the source of the chaos—a horse, thrashing wildly, entangled in barbed wire.
It was Jasmine, a beautiful chestnut mare I'd been working with since I arrived at the ranch. She was usually calm and gentle, but now her eyes were wide with terror, her body slick with sweat and blood from the wire cutting into her flesh.
