Page 83 of Outlaw Ridge: Griff
Griff watched Margo for a long moment, then finally sat back, the weight of the truth settling hard across the room.
They were almost at the end of it now.
Almost.
Griff let the silence stretch for a moment, letting Margo breathe before he asked, “Tell us about Caleb.”
The question cracked something in her. Margo’s breath hitched and then gave way to a ragged sob. She buried her face in her hands, shaking. When she looked up again, her eyes were red, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I took him,” she said. “I went to the Davidson house, waiting for a chance. When he came outside, I stunned him… tied him up. I didn’t want to hurt him—I just needed leverage. I thought if I could force you to destroy the files… this would all go away.”
Margo wiped at her face with trembling fingers. “I hired a hacker to try to wipe the system. He failed. That’s when I sent the photo and made Caleb read the instructions. But I can’t talk more about him. Not now.”
She looked away, her voice breaking again. “But I’ll write it down. All of it. I’ll make a full confession.”
Griff kept his tone level. “You’ll have the chance to do that. But your alone time won’t be here. It’ll be in a holding cell,” Griff said. “You’re not walking out of this station.”
“I don’t want to walk out,” Margo insisted, meeting his gaze. “I deserve to be punished. It’s the only way I’ll ever be able to live with myself.”
Griff didn’t respond. He simply nodded once, then stepped out to have an officer escort her to the cell.
The truth was finally out. But justice still had a few more steps to go.
Griff stood from the table and reached over to stop the recorder. “Interview paused at 10:12 p.m.,” he said into the mic. He met Margo’s tired, tear-streaked gaze. “Someone will be back in a minute to escort you to a holding cell.”
Margo didn’t look up. She stared at the table instead, shoulders hunched, voice flat. “I’m sorry about Caleb,” she muttered. “But not Hannah. She deserved to die.”
Griff said nothing. There was no justification for cold-blooded murder—no matter how twisted the reasoning.
He and Lily walked out of the interview room. Jacob was waiting in the hall, arms folded, his jaw tight.
“I was in observation,” he said quietly. “You want me to book her and get her settled in a cell?”
Griff nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Jacob.”
Jacob gave a quick nod, then moved past them toward the room.
The moment the door closed behind him, Griff exhaled. His chest felt like it had been cinched tight for hours. It had been a hellishly long night. A hellishly long case. And even though the truth was finally out, it hadn’t brought relief. Not yet.
“Need air,” he muttered.
Lily didn’t say anything—just followed him silently out of the station.
They stepped into the cold night, the air sharp against his skin, the scent of lingering smoke still hanging from the fire earlier. Griff led them to the truck. They got in and closed the doors behind them.
For a few seconds, they just sat there.
The silence didn’t feel empty.
It felt earned.
They sat in the truck, the cab quiet except for the sound of the engine. Griff glanced over at Lily, her features caught in the faint glow of the streetlight spilling through the windshield. She looked tired, but not worn out—strong, still standing after everything. Still standing with him.
He cleared his throat. “So, I was thinking…”
She turned her head, brows lifted. “Yeah?”
He met her gaze. “I want to take you out. A real date.”
