Page 88 of Savage Rancher
I watch the footage again—the figure moving through Emma's property, destroying her home, her father's legacy. I see that look in her eyes again, and my hands curl into fists.
"Law enforcement won't move on this," Luke says. "Reasonable doubt. No face, no voice, no definitive identification. Garrett would need more."
"Then we don't wait for law enforcement." My voice is cold, controlled. "We handle it ourselves."
Mason meets my gaze. "Agreed. But we need to be smart. Turner's not Eli. He's crafty. We move on him, we do it clean, without repercussions."
I nod, already running scenarios. Timing. Location. Disposal.
The faint sound of tires on gravel cuts through my thoughts.
All three of us freeze. Shadow barks once from the stable.
"Expecting someone?" Luke reaches to pull up the exterior feeds as Mason reaches for his rifle.
“No.” Emma’s secure in the house, but I’m not taking any chances. I lean over Luke’s shoulder, looking at the screen.
The deputy’s cruiser is parked in front of the main house, and Harper Garrett is getting out.
“Officer Hot Stuff,” Luke says with a purr.
"Fuck," Mason mutters.
I watch Deputy Garrett look around, her movements brisk, her expression grim. She's not here for a social call.
90
EMMA
Jake is going to kill me.
Smoke, one of my father's best mustangs, shakes his head, like he knows we’re coming up on something wrong.
"Easy, boy." I run my hand down his neck. He’s black as midnight and as smart as they come. He knows me and trusts me.
But he has every right to be questioning me right now.I’mquestioning me.
I close my eyes, envisioning Jake’s reaction when he finds out that I’m not asleep in his bed—that I snuck out, borrowed one of the horses, and set out on a trail that cuts through his property straight to the north ridge, by the old cottonwood line.
It’s not pretty.
But the more I think about it, the more I believe I need to go. Cole could have watched my house burn from anywhere. Why the north ridge? He had to have been there for another reason.
Maybe whatever shipment he’s dealing with is still there. Would he have chanced moving it, with the sheriff and fire department so active on the highway? I don’t think so. If I were him, I’d wait till tonight.
Which means I need to go see if it’s there.
I’ll gather evidence. I’ll photograph the trafficking operation, the fire scene, and anything else that proves Cole's guilt. I’ll hand it to the sheriff or anyone who can arrest him instead of bury him.
My camera hangs around my neck. Loaded. Ready.
The shortcut cuts through the back pasture, follows the dry creek bed, and emerges on the ridge.
Smoke moves beneath me like water, sure-footed and silent. I lean forward, my fingers buried in his mane, and I encourage him faster.
91
JAKE
