Page 25

Fuck. Fentanyl was already enough of a problem in most communities without someone deliberately pushing it. I definitely didn’t want Garnet Bend to be in the middle of a drug ring.

“How credible are these sources?”

“Credible enough that we’re bringing it to you.” Hunter moved to the window, scanning the street outside with professional awareness. “One of our contacts in Billings picked up chatter about veterinary clinics being used as distribution points. Feed stores, livestock transport companies—businesses that wouldn’t normally draw attention.”

“Rural operations are perfect cover,” Beckett agreed. “Who’s going to question a delivery truck going to a farm or ranch? Who’s going to search hay bales or feed sacks?”

I thought about Garnet Bend’s layout—the ranches and farms that surrounded our small town, the vast stretches of empty land where someone could operate without being seen. The hunting cabins scattered throughout the mountains, most of them unoccupied for months at a time.

My phone buzzed with a notification from the nanny cam app. I glanced down reflexively, and my stomach dropped.

Piper was holding Caleb, pacing back and forth across my living room. But she wasn’t soothing a fussy baby—she was sobbing. Her shoulders shook with the force of it, tears streaming down her face as she held our son against her chest. Caleb looked calm, content even, which made her distress all the more alarming.

What the hell?

“We need to get on top of this immediately,” I managed, forcing myself to look up at Hunter and Beckett. “I’ll start shaking down contacts of my own.”

Hunter nodded. “Agreed. When we find something concrete, we’ll bring it right to you.”

I nodded, but my attention was split. Why the hell was Piper crying like that?

“Everybody needs to be careful, and we need to do this by the book so we can make the arrests stick. You guys call me before making any moves yourself.” I glanced at the app again and frowned. Piper was now pacing almost frantically.

Beckett studied my face with the perception that came from twenty years of friendship. “You okay? You seem distracted.”

“Just thinking through the implications.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. “If there’s a trafficking operation using our area as a pipeline, we need to be smart about how we approach it.”

“Agreed.” Hunter headed for the door. “We’ll coordinate with you before taking any action. This needs to be handled carefully.”

“I’ll put my deputies on alert, have them pay attention to unusual traffic patterns, unfamiliar vehicles,” I said, already planning to cut this meeting short.

After they left, I immediately grabbed my phone and opened the camera app. Piper had stopped crying, but I could see she was still upset. Her face was blotchy and red, and she kept wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. She’d put Caleb down for a nap on the couch, carefully arranging pillows around him to keep him safe.

Her movements were slow, deliberate, like each action required conscious effort. She stood over our son for a long moment, her hand hovering protectively above him, before turning away.

I switched to the kitchen camera and watched her open the refrigerator. She stood there for a long moment, scanning the contents—leftover spaghetti from last night, sandwich meat,fruit, yogurt, a dozen other options. Then she closed it and headed to the pantry.

When she emerged, she was carrying the peanut butter and bread she’d bought at the grocery store yesterday.

Anger flared in my chest. Why was she choosing the cheapest, least nutritious food available when I had a mostly fully stocked kitchen? Was this some kind of self-punishment? A way of maintaining distance between us?

I watched her spread a thin layer of peanut butter on one slice of bread, then put everything away and eat the meager sandwich slowly, mechanically. Just like this morning, like she was forcing herself to consume it rather than enjoying it.

When she finished, she leaned against the kitchen counter and buried her face in her hands. I could see her shoulders shaking again, could see the moment she almost lost her balance and had to grip the counter to steady herself.

This wasn’t right. Whatever was going on with her—exhaustion, malnutrition, something else—it was getting worse, not better. And I was sitting here spying on her through cameras instead of being there to help.

I was already reaching for my jacket before I’d consciously decided to leave. “Jenny,” I called to my secretary through the open office door. “I’m heading out for the rest of the afternoon. Personal business.”

Jenny looked up from her computer with surprise. “Everything okay, Sheriff? You haven’t taken personal time since…well, since ever.”

“Family emergency,” I said, which was close enough to the truth. “Transfer any calls to Deputy Martinez. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

As I drove through town toward my house, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Dr. Faith Rankine’s office. Faith was relatively new to Garnet Bend—young, fresh out of residency,with a modern approach that was different from old Dr. Jamison, who’d been treating half the town since before I was born.

“Dr. Rankine’s office, this is Susan.”

“Susan, this is Sheriff Calloway. I need to speak with Dr. Rankine if she’s available. It’s urgent.”