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I nodded, feeling a rush of satisfaction. This was the break we needed. "Alright, Ricky. Here's the deal. You're gonna keep working for Halverson, but you're gonna feed us information. Got it?"
He looked like he was about to protest, but then he slumped, defeated. "Yeah. Got it."
We left the apartment, and I turned to the deputy. "Keep a close eye on him. If he so much as twitches wrong, I want to know about it."
"Will do."
Back at the station, I felt a sense of progress. We had a lead, a way in. But as I sat down to update my notes, the thought of Heather nagged at me. I needed to keep her safe, but that meant keeping her at a distance. It wasn't fair to her, but it was the only way.
I buried myself in work, trying to drown out the guilt. Ricky's information was a start, but we needed more. I had deputies checking out the locations he'd mentioned, and I was coordinating with other agencies to track the money trail.
One night, after a particularly long day, I sat in my truck outside my house, staring at the darkened windows. The silence was heavy, and the loneliness gnawed at me. I missed Heather, missed her laugh, her touch. But I couldn't risk her getting caught in the crossfire.
As I got out of the truck, I noticed something on the porch—a small package in plain brown paper. My heart skipped a beat. I approached it cautiously, my hand on my gun. The package had no markings, no indication of where it came from.
I picked it up and took it inside, setting it on the kitchen table. My pulse quickened as I carefully opened it, revealing a small, old-fashioned cassette tape and a note. The note was typed, the words simple: "Play it. Alone."
My hands trembled as I inserted the tape into an old player I kept around. The tape hissed, and then a voice filled the room. Distorted, unrecognizable.
"You're getting close, Deputy. Too close. Back off, or she dies."
My blood ran cold. The threat was clear, and they knew about my feelings for Heather. The room spun as I realized just how deep this went. They had eyes everywhere, and now they were using her to get to me.
I smashed the player against the wall, the plastic and metal shattering on impact. Rage and fear warred inside me. They had crossed a line, and now it was personal.
I grabbed my phone and called the deputy, my voice shaking with barely controlled fury. "We need to move. Now. Full force. I want every location Ricky mentioned raided by morning. And I want Heather under constant protection. Do you hear me?"
"Got it, boss," he replied, sensing the urgency.
I hung up and sat down, my mind racing. This wasn't just about the drugs anymore. It was about power and control. They thought they could scare me into backing down, but they were wrong. I was more determined than ever to bring them down.
Sleep was out of the question. I spent the rest of the night preparing, going over every detail, every lead. By dawn, the raids were in full swing. We hit the old mill first, finding a stash of drugs and a couple of low-level thugs. They were scared, but they knew nothing useful.
Next was the warehouse by the tracks. It was empty, but we found evidence—packaging materials, residue, signs of recent activity. We were closing in, but the ring was always one step ahead.
We were making progress, but the threat to Heather weighed heavily on me. I couldn't let them hurt her. I wouldn't.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Heather
The sun had barely begun to rise, casting a soft golden hue over the ranch, but I was already up, pacing the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand. I had tried calling Danny multiple times, but there was no response, not even a text to let me know he was okay. The longer he stayed silent, the more frustrated and worried I became. But I couldn't let it consume me. The ranch needed me, and the only way to keep my mind from spiraling was to throw myself into work.
I finished my coffee and headed out to the barn. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of hay and horses. The familiar sounds of the ranch waking up surrounded me—the soft nickering of the horses, the distant hum of the tractor starting up, the rhythmic clucking of the chickens. This place was my sanctuary, and right now, it was the only thing keeping me grounded.
As I approached the stables, I saw Tyler already hard at work. He looked up and gave me a nod, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. I knew he was pleased to see me throwing myself into the ranch work, especially with Danny being conspicuously absent.
"Morning," I greeted, trying to keep my tone light.
"Looks like you've got a lot on your mind," he observed, falling into step beside me. "Want to talk about it?"
I shook my head. "Not really. Just trying to keep busy."
Tyler studied me for a moment. "You know, it's good to see you taking charge around here. Things seem to run smoother when you're involved."
"Thanks," I said, my voice tight. I didn't want to talk about Danny, and I definitely didn't want to get into the mess of my feelings. "Let's focus on getting these stalls cleaned out."
We worked in silence for a while, the repetitive motion of shoveling and raking offering a strange kind of solace. As the sun climbed higher, more of the ranch hands joined us, and the usual bustle of activity filled the air. Tyler and I exchanged a few words here and there, but mostly, we worked side by side, each lost in our own thoughts.
