Page 10 of Lone Star Wanted
Cassidy leaned over his shoulder. “That his?”
“Yeah,” Kincade said. “Travis carried one like this for off-grid comms. Only used it when he didn’t want traffic traced.”
The phone powered on, screen flickering to life. No wallpaper. No contacts. Just a prompt for a PIN. Kincade paused, then typed in Cassidy’s birthday. The screen unlocked.
His gut tightened. “He used your birthday.”
Cassidy didn’t speak, just stepped closer as he opened the only saved draft message.
It wasn’t long. Just a few lines. But every word hit like a blow to the chest.
If you find this, Kincade, don’t come looking for me. Protect Cassidy. They’ll come after her next to shut her up. Don’t trust Moran. Don’t trust the others. The person who killed Harlan is a cop.
Cassidy stared at the screen, her face still, her eyes fixed on the words like they were the only thing keeping her grounded.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.
Kincade saw it. The shift in her posture, the way her jaw locked, her breath slowed. The truth had landed, heavy and unforgiving.
Travis hadn’t disappeared to save himself. He’d vanished to stay alive. To protect her. And now Kincade understood the full weight of what that message meant.
The person who killed Harlan wasn’t just close to the investigation.
They wore a badge.
Which meant Travis wasn’t the only one in the crosshairs. Cassidy was too.
Because whatever she did or didn’t know, someone out there was ready to kill to keep it buried.
----- ? ----
Chapter Four
----- ? ----
Cassidy’s heart was still thudding when she heard the sound of boots coming her way. A voice followed.
“Deputy Prescott?” a man called out.
She turned, already stepping away from the cedar brush. Kincade slipped the burner phone into his back pocket without a word. His eyes met hers for a beat, sharp and steady, asking if she was ready for whatever came next.
She wasn’t.
Not really.
But she nodded anyway. Right now, she only wanted to find her brother alive and get him medical help if he needed it. She didn’t want to deal with county cops or possible death threats hanging over her head.
They started back toward the quarry and didn’t have to walk far before she spotted the person who’d called out to her. County Sheriff Duke Becker. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a silver buzz cut and a face weathered by decades in the West Texas sun, his hand rested near his holstered weapon, but he didn’t draw.
Beside him stood Deputy Marlene Lang. Younger, in her mid-thirties. She had dark auburn hair pulled into a no-nonsense braid, mirrored sunglasses, and a body language that mirrored Becker’s. Ready but not aggressive.
Cassidy knew them both. Had worked with them more than once. Trusted them. Or rather she used to. Now, with Travis’s warning echoing in her head, she wasn’t sure of anything.
Not who to trust.
Not what they already knew.
Not what they were capable of.
