Page 53 of Her Final Hours
“You have a job to do,” Ray finished, a hint of remorse in his eyes. Bentley sniffed the air, noticing the faint scent of alcohol emanating from the truck’s interior.
He groaned. “Have you been drinking, Ray?”
Ray sighed, frustration mounting in him. He kept glancing past Bentley at Tommy, who seemed to enjoy the show. “Come on, man. Can’t you see what he’s doing?” Ray gestured towards Tommy, still wearing a smug expression.
Bentley glanced back, then returned to looking at him, caught between sympathy and duty. “How much have you had to drink, Ray?” he inquired, concerned for his colleague.
Realizing that continuing the conversation would only exacerbate the situation, Ray sighed. “Not enough. Now I’m leaving, okay?” he said, starting the Silverado’s engine.
“Ray!” Bentley called out, reaching out to pause his departure. Ray turned his attention back to the officer for a second before hitting the gas and peeling away. “Ray!” he yelled, but his voice was lost in the guttural sound of the exhaust pipe.
Ray gave a final glance in Tommy’s direction before he accelerated away, leaving behind the confrontation with Bentley and the evil presence of Tommy.
As he drove a few miles down the road, frustration coursed through him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Tommy was orchestrating every step, taunting him at every turn.
Then, as if on cue, a police cruiser appeared behind him, lights flashing, signaling him to pull over.
Reluctantly, Ray complied, his frustration mounting witheach passing moment. The officer who approached his vehicle was different, but it was clear that he had been informed about the situation. “Sir, turn off the engine and step out of the vehicle,” he instructed.
Ray’s eyes narrowed, his defiance growing. “I’m not drunk,” he stated firmly, his voice tinged with exasperation. The officer persisted, insisting on conducting a breathalyzer test to confirm sobriety.
As Ray blew into the device, his gaze drifted toward the road as Tommy’s beat-up black Ford drove by slowly. Their eyes locked again, Tommy’s grin cutting through the day like a blade. It was a silent challenge, a reminder that Tommy still held the upper hand.
The device beeped, and the breathalyzer results returned under the legal limit, reaffirming his sobriety. “Close. Too close,” the officer said. “You should know better.”
“Yeah, yeah, save your self-righteous bullshit for someone who cares. What is this, your first day on the job?”
The officer scowled as Ray showed him his badge.
“All that means is you should know better.” With that said, he told Ray to wait there as he returned to his cruiser. He called it in, checked his license, and made sure dispatch knew he’d been a good little officer.
Ray leaned against his truck as he watched Tommy’s vehicle disappear into the distance, leaving a lingering sense of unease behind. His determination to protect Maddie and give Tommy a can of whoop ass only intensified, fueled by the brazen provocation he had just witnessed.
As the cruiser lights ceased flickering, the officer made one final comment before returning to his vehicle. “We received the report, and we have to investigate all complaints. We understand your sister and Tommy’s history, so we’re willing to let this slide. This time.” He handed him back the license.
Ray nodded, his eyes reflecting frustration. “Well, gee, thanks, officer,” he said sarcastically. “I’ll remember to give you a break the next time you’re breaking the law in High Peaks.”
The officer’s gaze held a glimmer of understanding, except he wasn’t too scared to make it clear that Ray’s position didn’t give him the green light to do whatever he wanted. “We’re held to a higher standard. Or has being a Sutherland made you forget that?”
Ray’s jaw tightened, his resolve hardening like steel. He bit down hard, holding back another sarcastic comment. He thanked the officer and got back into his Silverado. As he pulled back onto the road, adrenaline coursed through his veins reminding him of the danger that Maddie faced.
Law and order was one thing, and he’d shown restraint last time.
This time? Maybe going that route wouldn’t work.
19
Wednesday, March 21, 3:10 p.m.
It truly was the calm before the storm.
Lucas Blackwood either had nothing to hide or thought he was untouchable. They would soon find out. Noah had Callie call ahead to arrange the informal meeting. With no evidence against him or reason to believe that he was anything more than an unfortunate person of interest over two decades ago, they opted to go out to him. Expecting him to show up at the Sheriff’s Office after how he’d been treated would have been asking a lot.
Noah was surprised that he was willing to meet them.
Many that fell under scrutiny would often change phone numbers, move to a new state, or fall off the radar — not him.
On the drive out to Camp Eagle, located on a peninsula on Upper Saranac Lake, the afternoon looked like they would see a change in weather for the better. The steady snow flurry had allbut given way, leaving the road flanked by snow-covered trees and the occasional snowflake gently falling from the sky.
