Page 23 of Outlaw Ridge: Ryker
Charlotte didn’t answer with words. A moment later, Emma’s phone buzzed with a text. Then another. And another. Three photos.
Each one came with a brief caption.
First photo: Before the argument, Charlotte had noted.
In this shot, Emma saw Ethan smiling, glass in hand. Dr. Maris Colvin was standing behind him, looking at him, not casually. Not passively. Watching him as if she’sin love with him.
Second photo: Mid-argument, Charlotte had spelled out.
Emma remembered that moment. The shouting. The phone was in Ethan’s hand with the naked photo of Janette. Dr. Colvin was visible in the background, stunned. She was close,close enough to have seen the screen.
Third photo: After, was the label Charlotte had put on this one.
Here, Ethan had turned away, clearly angry. Dr. Colvin was still in frame. Her expression was nothing like before, not with hurt, not with confusion.
She wasglaringat him.
Not with hurt. Not with confusion. With something colder. Like she wanted him dead.
Emma stared at the screen, blood rushing in her ears.
She hadn’t even known the woman was there.
But now… it was burned into her brain. And just like that, the web twisted tighter, with one more suspect caught in the strands.
----- ? ----
Chapter Six
----- ? ----
Ryker grabbed his go-bag from the backseat of his truck, slinging it over one shoulder with a quiet grunt. It was second nature to have the bag ready, and it was packed with everything he’d need if a night turned into a week, if safety became strategy.
He met Emma at her SUV, and they didn’t bother with small talk. They were both running on fumes and instinct, the silence between them filled with everything they didn’t need to say.
Her place was in town, but just barely, in a newer development on the east side, where the streets still smelled faintly of fresh pavement and sawdust. Some houses were already finished, lights glowing warm behind curtained windows, but several lots were still under construction, skeletons of future homes rising from dirt and rebar.
Ryker scanned the area as they pulled in. Good sightlines. Quiet. But a little too easy for someone to blend in and watch from the shadows.
Emma hit the remote and the door of the attached garage lifted with a low mechanical hum. She pulled inside and killed the engine, shut the garage door, and the sound of sleet tapping gently on the roof faded into stillness.
The house was a modern craftsman, all clean lines and muted tones, charcoal siding, deep wood accents, matte blackfixtures on the garage and front door. It suited her. No frills. Sharp edges, but still inviting.
Inside, it had that just-moved-in feel. Open floor plan, high ceilings, pale oak floors, and minimalist furniture that looked like it had been chosen for function, not show. The place still smelled like new paint and varnish and fresh drywall.
A few unpacked boxes sat against one wall in the living room, labeled with Sharpie:Books, Photos, Kitchen Stuff I Might Not Need.Her coat closet door was open, a jacket and two pairs of boots inside, as if they hadn’t quite found their place.
Ryker set his bag down near the entryway, his gaze drifting across the room. “You planning on finishing unpacking anytime soon?”
Emma locked the door behind them and arched a brow. “Not if I keep getting shot at.”
Fair enough.
But even half-settled, the place had her fingerprints all over it. Order, quiet, control. And tonight, for the first time in a long time, it wouldn’t be empty.
Emma led him down the short hall, flicking on a light as they passed the laundry room and coat closet. She opened the door to the guestroom and stepped aside.
“Here,” she said. “You’re right across from me. Try not to snore.”
