Page 76 of Finding His Redemption

“So he ditched it.”

“It wasn’t a Valor Ridge truck.” All the ranch vehicles she’d ever seen were black with the VR brand stenciled on the doors.

“Maybe he stole it.”

“When would he have had the time if he was killing Bailee?”

The bakery had grown uncomfortably quiet. At the corner table, Dewey was leaning so far forward it was a wonder his chair didn’t tip. Trevor Pace’s jaw tightened, and he reached for his wallet, peeling off a few bills to cover his untouched coffee.

Nessie returned her attention to Goodwin. “Why are you ignoring that information? Unless you really don’t want to find who killed Bailee?”

“I’m not ignoring anything.” His smile had vanished completely. “I’m conducting a thorough investigation based on evidence, not the selective memory of someone with an obvious personal interest in the suspect.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “My relationship with Jax has no bearing on this.”

Pastor Glenn placed a hand on her shoulder, and it took everything in her not to recoil. “We only want what’s best for you, my dear. For you and your son.”

The mention of Oliver sent ice through her veins. That was a threat, however veiled. These men were dangerous in ways Jax Thorne would never be, wielding power instead of fists, hiding behind badges and Bibles.

“I think you should leave,” she said quietly. “Both of you.”

Hank’s pale eyes glittered. “You seem to make a habit of throwing law enforcement out of your establishment, Ms. Harmon. Might make folks wonder what you’re hiding.”

Oh, God. What was she doing?

“I’m not hiding anything.” She stepped back from his looming presence. “I’m just tired of watching you railroad an innocent man.”

“Innocent?” He barked out a laugh that held no humor. “You really don’t know who you’re defending, do you?”

“I know he didn’t kill Bailee. He couldn’t have. The timeline doesn’t add up, but you’re still trying to make it fit.” She met his gaze unflinchingly. “So, who are you protecting?”

Something dangerous flashed across his face, a split-second break in his easy-going façade. The sheriff wasn’t targeting Jax out of prejudice against Valor Ridge. That was just a bonus as he actively steered the investigation away from someone else.

But who?

It had to be someone with money and power. Those were the only things men like Hank Goodwin respected.

Her gaze went to Trevor Pace as he pushed back from his table, the chair legs scraping against the floor. She watched him leave, climbing into a silver truck at the curb, a hollow pit opening in her stomach.

Craig Foster.

It made so much sense.

Hank would want to protect him since he owned half of the town.

And Trevor, Foster’s right-hand man, who had rarely visited the bakery before Jax’s arrest, had been here every day since.

“Careful, Vanessa,” the sheriff said, drawing her attention back to him. “You’ve built a nice little life here. Be a shame to see it all come crashing down because you backed the wrong horse.”

The bakery door swung open with enough force to rattle the bell, and Boone Callahan’s massive frame filled the entrance. His dark blue eyes, so eerily similar to his uncle’s, swept the room and locked onto Hank. Behind him, River Beckett’s lanky form and Ghost’s lean shadow crowded the doorway, effectively blocking any exit the sheriff might have considered. The air in the bakery seemed to contract, like the sudden pressure drop before lightning strikes.

Boone didn’t move from the doorway. “Sheriff.”

Just the one word, but it carried the weight of years of history between them. Uncle and nephew, locked in some private war that had spilled over to encompass the entire town.

Nessie relaxed her grip on the counter’s edge. She hadn’t realized how alone she’d felt until that moment. It wasn’t that she needed saving—she’d been saving herself for years—but there was something undeniably comforting about not facing Hank Goodwin’s particular brand of small-town tyranny by herself.

Ghost separated from the group and moved with liquid grace through the bakery, navigating between tables without seeming to notice the patrons who stared openly at him. He stopped three feet from Nessie, positioning himself between her and Pastor Glenn without saying a word. His ice-gray eyes narrowed.

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