Chapter Six

The moment Gracelyn heard the sound, she hurried to the baby, scooped her up and scrambled away from the windows. Even though the drapes and blinds were closed, that wouldn’t stop a bullet.

Part of her, the former-cop part, wanted to grab a gun and be ready to return fire, but the baby had to come first. She couldn’t protect Abigail if she was doing what Slater and Ruston were doing. They had already drawn their weapons, and Ruston had hurried to one window while Slater had gone to the other. They both lifted a few slats of the blinds so they could look out.

Joelle pulled out a gun, too, from the back waist of her jeans, but instead of the window, she maneuvered herself in front of Gracelyn and the baby.

There was the popping sound of another gunshot. It didn’t sound close, and neither bullet had slammed into the house. Maybe that meant the shots had come from a hunter or someone who was trying to scare off a wild animal. Gracelyn wanted to hang on to that hope, but after what’d happened the night before, this was most likely another attempt to come after all three of them.

It was an incredibly risky move.

The ranch had four cops and ranch hands, all armed. Then again, these shots were likely coming from a sniper and it wasn’t a close-range attack. It was possible the shooter thought he could pick off some of them before moving in to finish the job he’d started.

“Is everyone all right?” Duncan called out. Judging from the sound of his voice, he was downstairs.

“So far,” Joelle answered. “Can you see the shooter?”

“No,” Duncan replied quickly. “But it’s not any of the hands.” He paused a heartbeat. “Someone’s coming.”

Duncan added that last part just as there was a third round of gunfire. And just as Ruston muttered some profanity. “It’s an SAPD cruiser,” Ruston snarled. “Probably Tony.”

Gracelyn shook her head. “He’s not the one firing those shots.”

“No,” Ruston agreed. “It appears he’s the one being shot at.”

That definitely didn’t tamp down any of Gracelyn’s worries since the gunman could change targets at any second. But it did punch some holes in one of her theories that Tony might be behind the attacks.

She heard the sound of the vehicle then. The sharp squeal of brakes as it came to a stop.

“The cruiser isn’t in front of the house,” Ruston relayed, glancing back at her to make very brief eye contact. “He’s stopped at the end of the driveway.”

Gracelyn nearly asked if that was because the driver had been hit. The cruiser was bullet resistant, but that didn’t mean shots couldn’t get through. So, if this was indeed Tony, he could be hurt. Then again, it was also possible he hadn’t wanted to come closer since the gunshots could endanger those inside.

The silence came, and it seemed to her that everyone was holding their breaths. Even Abigail wasn’t making a sound.

Then Ruston’s phone vibrated.

It barely made a sound, but it cut right through the silence. While he continued to volley glances out the window, he took out his phone. “Tony,” he said, and he answered it on speaker. “Are you in the cruiser at the end of the driveway?” Ruston demanded.

“Yeah,” Tony immediately verified. “Who’s shooting at us?” There were hitches in his breath, and the question rushed out.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Ruston countered. “Us?” he questioned. “Who’s with you?”

“It’s me,” Charla said. So, their call was on speaker as well. “Are the shots maybe coming from one of the local lawmen or a ranch hand?”

“No.” He huffed, and when he repeated it, there was plenty of frustration in his voice. “I think the shots came from the west. There are a lot of trees in that area, so check and see if you can spot a sniper.”

Because Gracelyn was watching Ruston so closely, she saw when he shifted his attention in the direction of the road. “A Saddle Ridge cruiser is coming,” Ruston relayed to everyone just as his phone dinged with a text. “Duncan says it’s Luca. Deputy Luca Vanetti,” he spelled out, no doubt to inform Charla and Tony. “And Duncan is Sheriff Holder. He’s here inside the house.”

“I don’t see a sniper,” Tony said. “In fact, the only people I see are the deputy in the cruiser and some cowboys with rifles back behind the house. You’re sure they’re not the ones who shot at us?”

“I’m sure,” Ruston snapped, and this time there was some anger in his voice. “I’m not a dirty cop, and I didn’t set anyone up to be murdered.”

Before Ruston could add anything to that, he got a text. “Duncan says one of the hands spotted someone in that area by the trees. It’s probably the sniper, so the hands are going in pursuit.”

That gave Gracelyn a jolt of both hope and fear. She wanted the ranch hands to catch the guy, but they weren’t cops. And they weren’t killers like the sniper almost certainly was. The ranch hands could be hurt. Or worse. Still, if they managed to capture him, then they might learn why these attacks were happening.

Or if this was actually an attack.

After everything that had happened, Gracelyn wasn’t about to dole out any automatic trust to Charla and Tony simply because they’d been shot at. One of them could have arranged this, knowing their odds of being hurt while sitting in a cruiser were slim.

Slater got another text. “Luca will escort the two SAPD cops to the house. They’ll stay downstairs,” Slater added, glancing at Gracelyn, probably to try to reassure her that Charla and Tony wouldn’t be a threat.

And they probably wouldn’t be, in a house surrounded by lawmen. No, this wouldn’t be an optimal time for them to try to tie up loose ends. If that was what one of them was actually trying to do, that was. But Gracelyn very much wanted to see their faces so she could maybe tell if they were trying to hide their guilt.

“We’ll talk once Charla and you are inside,” Ruston said to Tony, and he ended the call.

Gracelyn turned to Joelle. “Would you be able to stay up here with the baby?” she asked.

Joelle didn’t jump to say yes. She looked at Ruston, and he gave her a nod. Only then did Joelle ease Abigail into her arms.

“I’ll stay up here with Joelle,” Slater immediately volunteered, “but if things get dicey downstairs, let me know.” He looked Ruston straight in the eyes. “Are those two cops killers?”

Ruston held his brother’s gaze. “I don’t know. They might both be clean, but I can’t trust either of them until I know for certain they aren’t behind this. Right now, I’m nowhere near certain.”

Slater nodded. “Let me know if you need help,” he repeated.

Ruston turned to Gracelyn, studying her, and she thought maybe he was looking for any sign that she, too, wanted to stay put. She didn’t.

“I’m armed,” she let him know. “And I want to hear what they have to say.”

He didn’t try to talk her out of it. Probably because he understood she needed to do this as much as he did. “We shouldn’t accuse Charla or Tony of anything right now. Nothing to put them on the defensive. Agreed?”

Gracelyn huffed. She did agree, since the pair were more likely to talk if they thought they were all on the same side. “All right,” she finally said. “I’ll play nice if they do.”

Ruston didn’t challenge that either. “I’ll text Duncan and let him know that, while both Charla and Tony are suspects, we don’t have anything concrete on them. Not enough to treat them like criminals, anyway.” He stopped. “I’ll ask Duncan if he wants to go tough on them to try to get some answers. Duncan’s instincts are good,” he added. “If he senses trouble, he’ll shut it down.”

That was a lot of trust to put in Duncan’s hands, but she reminded herself that if Ruston believed in the sheriff, then she should, too. Plus, there was that whole deal about this being a bad time for Charla or Tony to try to come after Ruston and her.

Ruston sent the text and then motioned for her to follow him. After she brushed a kiss on the baby’s head, Gracelyn did just that.

Ruston didn’t put away his gun as they started down the stairs, and Gracelyn kept her hand on her own weapon. There were some footsteps and movements in the foyer, and she heard Duncan.

Ruston and she followed the sound of his voice and those footsteps and found Duncan, their two visitors and a black-haired man she figured was Deputy Luca Vanetti. All four still had their weapons drawn, and it gave Gracelyn an immediate jolt. Her instincts were to take out her own gun, to be ready to defend herself, but she forced herself to stay calm.

Both Charla and Tony immediately turned to Ruston and her, and Gracelyn tried to interpret their expressions. They were both a little wild-eyed, perhaps cranked up on adrenaline from the attack. Of course, it could be a pretense, and Gracelyn wished she knew for sure.

Both Charla and Tony were what many people would call average and nondescript. Charla was five foot six with brown hair and brown eyes. Slim but not overly thin. Attractive but not beautiful. Tony was about five foot ten and had sandy-blond hair and a face that sported no scars and no unusual features.

Nothing about them stood out, which was an advantage in undercover work, something Charla still did. Tony, however, with his promotion to lieutenant, was a “suit” these days and didn’t do fieldwork.

Gracelyn had always felt as if she, too, fit into that average and nondescript category. But not Ruston. No, he had one of those faces that people definitely noticed. Handsome. Hot. That should have been a disadvantage for him, but it hadn’t been. He’d always managed to alter his looks just enough for undercover work, and sometimes, he’d even used those good looks to coax his way into places and situations.

“Gracelyn,” Tony muttered as a greeting, and he shifted his attention to Ruston and said his name as well. “Are you two all right? Were there shots fired into the house?”

“The shots didn’t come into the house,” Ruston stated. “They all seemed to be aimed at your cruiser.”

Ruston hadn’t emphasized the word seemed , but Gracelyn thought it was a good addition to his explanation. Because if Charla or Tony had indeed orchestrated this, then maybe the shots hadn’t even come near them.

“I heard you say the ranch hands spotted the sniper and were in pursuit,” Charla piped in.

She, too, was still gulping in her breath and looking a little shell-shocked. But Gracelyn had had to do that a time or two herself when undercover and playing a role. Undercover cops had to be good actors, and that could be exactly what Tony or Charla were doing now.

It was Duncan who answered. “Yes, the hands are looking now,” he confirmed, “but I have other deputies on the way. They’ll set up roadblocks. We might get lucky if the shooter’s still in the area.”

Tony nodded, and he was visibly steadier when he looked at Ruston and her again. “We have a lot to talk about,” he said, sounding very much like a boss now.

“If you’re here to demand I come into headquarters—” Ruston started.

“I’m not,” Tony interrupted. “Well, I was, but I’m sure as hell not demanding it now. It’s obviously not safe to try to get you into San Antonio. You either,” he added to Gracelyn. “How’s the baby? Is she safe?”

“She’s with two cops,” Gracelyn answered, rather than spell out that the baby was in the house. If Abigail was indeed the target, then there was no need to advertise her whereabouts. “Cops that I trust,” she couldn’t help but add.

Something flashed in Charla’s eyes. Anger, maybe. And she looked ready to demand to know if that was some kind of dig. It was, of course. But Tony spoke before she could.

“I understand your distrust of the police after what happened on your last assignment,” he said. His voice was oh so sympathetic. Perhaps too much so. “But we need to talk to you about the attack last night. Ruston emailed me a brief report, but we’ll need your account, too.”

Charla took up the explanation from there, turning toward Duncan. “We understand that this is your jurisdiction,” she said to Duncan, “but we have three dead bodies, and that needs to be investigated.”

Duncan glanced at Ruston, and Ruston nodded. That was apparently the only cue Duncan needed.

“We can do the interviews here,” Duncan said, speaking boss-to-boss with Tony. He motioned for them to all take a seat. “And since the investigations overlap, it’d be a good time for you and your detective to answer some of my questions, too.” That wasn’t a suggestion. Duncan was in all-cop mode now.

Charla opened her mouth, and Gracelyn was betting she was about to protest, but she hushed when she met Tony’s gaze. Apparently, Charla also responded to subtle cues.

“All right,” she said, holstering her gun and reaching into her pocket.

That had Gracelyn reaching for her gun. And Charla noticed. Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “Really?” Charla snarled.

“Really,” Gracelyn snarled right back. She didn’t add more because she didn’t want this to turn into a sniping contest. Not when she wanted those answers from Charla and Tony.

Charla made a show of taking her phone from her pocket and holding it up for Gracelyn to see. “I need to record this interview.”

Duncan holstered his own gun, took out his phone and sat in one of the chairs. “And I’ll record your responses.” He clicked on the record function. “In fact, I’d like to start. Sheriff Duncan Holder conducting interview of... State your names for the record,” he insisted.

Charla and Tony were clearly not pleased to be on the other end of what would likely turn out to be an interrogation, but they both gave their names and sat on the sofa across from Duncan.

Duncan stated the date and time and continued. “Someone blew Detective Ruston McCullough’s cover while he was on assignment at a house in my jurisdiction, and it nearly got him and Gracelyn Wallace killed. Who did that? Who’s responsible for not securing the location of an undercover officer?”

Gracelyn had to suppress a smile. She was so glad Duncan had taken over the bad-cop role, and he’d almost certainly done that on purpose so that Tony and Charla’s venom would be aimed at him. Of course, some of that venom would no doubt still come at Ruston and her. And she welcomed it. Because angry people often let things slip.

“That’s being investigated,” Tony answered. Yes, there was ire, all right. “We’re still in the preliminary stages of that, but it’s my theory that no one in my department was responsible. I trust the cops who work for me.”

“Including Ruston?” Duncan asked.

Tony blinked. “Of course.”

“Then that means you don’t believe he was responsible in any way for his cover being blown,” Duncan quickly concluded.

Tony shook his head, maybe objecting to the in any way part, but Duncan didn’t give him a chance to voice that.

“For the record, Lieutenant Franklin indicated nonverbally that he did not believe Detective Ruston McCullough compromised his undercover identity. Is that right?”

“That’s right,” Tony muttered.

“Good. So, if Ruston didn’t tell anyone who and where he was,” Duncan went on, “then who did? What’s your theory?”

Charla huffed. “That the leak came from Marty Bennett, the man who hired Ruston’s undercover persona.”

“Marty, who’s now dead,” Duncan stated in a way that made it sound like “isn’t that convenient” sarcasm. “And how would Marty have learned Ruston was a cop?”

“We don’t know,” Tony jumped in. He met Ruston’s gaze. “Not yet. But we’ll find out. That’s why we’re here. I need to know if there’s any possibility that you gave Marty some information, no matter how small, that made him believe you were undercover and that this was a sting operation.”

Now it was Ruston who huffed. “So, you do think I was responsible for the leak. Trust me, I wasn’t. My life was on the line. Gracelyn’s life and the baby’s, too. No way would I have risked letting anyone know. Especially a lowlife like Marty.”

Duncan sat back, and Gracelyn took that as another of those subtle cues that he was relinquishing the interview to Ruston and her. Gracelyn went with it.

“I certainly didn’t leak my location to anyone,” Gracelyn stated, easing down onto the love seat that was positioned adjacent to the sofa and the chair where Duncan was seated. “And until Ruston showed up, I had no idea he was even coming. But those two gunmen who tried to kill us, they knew. They knew my exact location.”

“Which they could have gotten from Marty,” Charla interjected.

“And that leads us right back to the question of who told Marty,” Ruston said, sitting next to Gracelyn. “It’s not just Gracelyn’s location either, but considering the break-in at my apartment, someone would have told either Marty or his killer about that, too. That’s a lot of information for someone outside of SAPD to have.”

“We’re looking into that,” Tony insisted, and he shifted his attention to Gracelyn. “Is it possible you alerted someone to Ruston’s identity—”

“No,” she interrupted, “because I didn’t know his undercover identity.”

“But you knew the location of his apartment,” Charla quickly inferred. There was something in her tone that suggested Charla had guessed that Ruston and she had gone there because they’d been lovers.

“No,” Gracelyn repeated. “I didn’t.”

Charla pulled back her shoulders, and it seemed as if she wanted to challenge that. “But you came here with him. Before last night, I mean. You visited Ruston here in Saddle Ridge.”

Gracelyn let her smile come. “That wouldn’t have been in any report, Charla. How would you know that?”

“I must have heard it somewhere,” Charla muttered, but her eyes were narrowed now. “What is this about?” she demanded. “You can’t possibly think Tony and I had something to do with what happened?”

“Did you?” Ruston asked, and he used some of Tony’s wording to phrase his next question. “Is there any possibility that you gave Marty information, no matter how small, that ended up blowing my cover?”

“Absolutely not,” Tony insisted.

Ruston didn’t miss a beat. He took out his phone, brought up the photo he’d gotten from Slater and held it out for Tony to see.

“This is one of the gunmen who tried to kill us,” Ruston spelled out. “Recognize him?” His tone indicated he already knew the answer.

A muscle tightened in Tony’s jaw. “Terry Zimmer. How the hell do you know he was involved?”

“Evidence gathered from the vehicle used in the attack,” Duncan supplied. He checked the time. “It’s been less than fifteen hours since that attack, and we—a small-town sheriff’s office with limited resources—have identified a former cop who you personally not only know, but one who also tried to murder Ruston and Gracelyn. And he was connected to the baby farm. You know the one I’m talking about. Gracelyn and Ruston were nearly killed then, too.”

“How do you know that?” Tony demanded, but then he waved off the question. “I haven’t seen or spoken to Zimmer in over a decade.”

“Good,” Duncan said, and he breezed right on. “Because as we speak, I have the Texas Rangers doing a deep background check on Zimmer. Deep,” he emphasized. “So, you want to rethink that answer?”

“No.” Tony spoke through clenched teeth now. “And there was no reason to involve the Rangers.”

“Beg to differ,” Duncan argued. “I have a high-ranking cop in SAPD—that would be you—with connections to a man involved in both an illegal black-market baby operation and the two attempted murders of police officers. I don’t want this swept under any rug. I want everything out in the open.”

The anger came, flaring through Tony’s eyes, and he whipped out his phone, his movement so fast that it had Luca, Duncan, Ruston and Gracelyn all drawing their weapons. That caused Tony to scowl.

“Since you’ve brought in the Rangers,” Tony said, his tone icy now, “you’ll want to let them know about Gracelyn’s involvement in this. And, no, I don’t mean the so-called attempts to kill her. I mean her involvement.”

Gracelyn flashed him her own scowl, but the uneasiness fell on her like a dead weight. She didn’t ask what Tony meant by that, but it was obvious he had something up his sleeve. Or rather on his phone, because he thrust it out for her to see.

She leaned in closer, looking at the image that was just as grainy as the one they had of Zimmer.

“This was taken from the security camera just up the street from Marty’s house,” Tony explained, keeping his steely stare on Gracelyn. “Notice the time stamp.”

She did. It would have been around the time that Marty had been murdered. There was the vague image of someone dressed in dark clothes.

Tony enlarged the image and showed it to her. Gracelyn leaned in again. And saw the face. She managed to choke back a gasp. Barely. But inside, a firestorm of emotions came at her.

Because she was looking at her sister’s face.