I shake my head. “Dad?—”
“I’m serious, Harper.” He points at me, all sheriff now. “Stay away from that ranch. Stay away from those men. Don’t ask questions. Don’t get involved. Can you do that?”
I stare at him, searching his face. Something’s wrong here. He’s worried—maybe even scared—about something. “What’s going on, Dad?”
“Swear you’ll keep to your lane and avoid that ranch,” he barks.
“No, I can’t do that,” I say slowly, shaking my head. I’m not going to stop seeing Luke.
He closes his eyes. “Then you need to be very, very smart about it. Watch for anyone following you. Don’t be out alone in isolated areas. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”
I know I must be gaping. I ask it again. “What’s going on, Dad?”
“What’s going on is you’re making a big mistake.” Without another word, he gets up and trudges up the stairs.
I wait until I hear his door close. “Thanks for the information, Dad,” I mumble. “Feeling really safe here.”
I shudder, wanting to go right back to Luke.
Ridiculous. I’m not going to hide behind a big, strong man. That’s not me.
Squeezing my water bottle, I head upstairs to my bedroom. I don’t bother turning on the light—I just kick off my boots and collapse onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. The same glow-in-the-dark stars I put up when I was twelve are still there, faint green shapes in the blackness.
Everything’s the same.
Except it’s not.
I replay the conversation with Dad in my head, picking apart every word, every pause, every inflection.
Those men are getting involved in dangerous things.
Getting on the wrong side of people they shouldn’t mess with.
I don’t want you at that ranch.
What does he know? And how involved is he?
Luke didn’t say as much when we talked about what happened on the bridge, over the ravine, and—truthfully—I didn’t want to read between the lines. But I know he inferred that someone at the sheriff’s office is in Turner’s pocket. Maybe my dad.
My stomach twists, my mind spinning in a direction I don’t want to go, because Dad’s a good cop. He’s been sheriff for over twenty years. He’s honest. He’s fair. He taught me everything I know about justice and integrity and doing the right thing even when it’s hard.
He wouldn’t be complicit in something illegal. He wouldn’t.
But the way he looked at me tonight was undeniable. It was like he was begging me to not ask questions—like he was caught between me and something bigger and dangerous.
Stay away from Blackthorn.
It’s not a warning. It’s a plea.
I roll onto my side, pulling my knees up to my chest. I don’t want to believe it. I don’t want to think my father could be involved in something bad. But I’m a cop, and my instincts are screaming that something’s wrong.
I close my eyes, but I know I won’t sleep.
Because in a few hours, before Dad gets up, I'm going into the office—to the evidence room. I'm pulling every case file from the last five years—every property dispute, every closed investigation, every suspicious death or disappearance.
And I'm going to find out if my father is hiding anything.
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