Page 11 of Lone Star Wanted
She forced a steady breath and took a step forward, lifting her chin. “Sheriff. Deputy.”
Becker gave her a short nod, boots grinding into the gravel as he stepped closer. “Afternoon, Deputy Prescott,” he said. “Gotta say I’m not surprised to see you out here. But you know you’re not exactly welcome.” He shook his head, sighed. “This hunt is way too personal to have you involved.”
“Understood,” she said, but it was lip service. It was too personal for hernotto be involved.
Becker turned to Kincade, eyes narrowing slightly. “And who might you be?”
“Kincade Maddox,” he answered.
Becker extended a hand. “Sheriff Duke Becker. County. This is my deputy, Marlene Lang.”
Lang gave a small nod. Her mirrored sunglasses made it hard to read her expression, but Cassidy caught the subtle shift in her stance. Alert, attentive.
Becker studied Kincade more closely, then gave a faint, knowing smile. “You’re one of Ruby’s boys, aren’t you?”
Kincade returned the handshake, and he kept his cautious gaze on the sheriff. “You know Ruby?”
“Hell, everybody around here knows Ruby,” Becker said. “Hard woman to forget.”
Marlene glanced at the ground, where the drops of blood trailed through the dirt and cedar needles. “You two see Travis out here?”
“No,” Cassidy answered. “Not yet.”
The county deputy’s attention then flicked to Kincade. “That your blood?”
“Maybe,” he said, brushing a hand near his temple. “I’m not sure.”
She waited for more, but he didn’t offer it.
Cassidy could feel the question sitting between them, heavy and silent. Because to explain that injury, Kincade would have to admit the truth. That he didn’t remember how it happened.
Or whether Travis had been with him when Harlan was murdered.
And in this moment, that truth was more dangerous than any lie.
Cassidy stepped forward, careful to keep her voice neutral. “We’ll let you get on with your search, Sheriff.”
Becker gave a nod, and both Marlene’s and his gazes lingered on Kincade for a second too long. “If you’ve got any influence over Deputy Prescott here, then convince her to steer clear of anything to do with her brother. Best to keep her and yourself out of this search for Travis.”
Kincade made a noncommittal sound that caused Marlene and Becker to scowl.
Cassidy didn’t care about their obvious disapproval, and she wasn’t especially worried about their search. If Travis was still nearby, she knew damn well he wouldn’t be showing himself. Not with marked cruisers crawling over the quarry and county cops sweeping the area. He’d be watching. Waiting. And he wouldn’t make a move unless he was sure it was safe.
With a muttered goodbye, she turned and started walking back toward her truck. Staying silent, Kincade fell in beside her. The tension between them had shifted. Not anger. Not blame. Something heavier. Shared.
At the edge of the clearing, a third cruiser had pulled in, its doors open. The K-9s were out—one black, one tan—both alert and tugging at their handlers.
Deputy Wes Morales stood near the tailgate of his unit, leash in hand. He spotted her and gave her a tight, apologetic look. No words, just a nod of quiet regret.
Cassidy nodded back, but her chest twisted anyway. She liked Wes Morales. But like Sheriff Becker and Deputy Marlene Lang, he fell into that category of people she couldn’t trust.
She climbed into the truck, her muscles still tense from being surrounded by law enforcement she couldn’t fully trust. She didn’t relax until the engine rumbled to life and the quarry disappeared behind them in the rearview mirror.
Kincade slid into the passenger seat and she did a U-turn to get them out of there. She could feel him studying her as she pulled out onto the gravel road. But he didn’t get a chance to say anything because her phone buzzed in the center console.
She tapped the screen and scanned the message. “It’s from Jericho,” she said. “He wants to meet. Gave an address.”
“Where?” he asked.
