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Mark grasped her hand and squeezed it. “He won’t be alone. I know my kid brother. Jake will stay by his side until Rodney’s begging for privacy. That kid will stick like glue. You have my word.”

Bridget smiled at the thought. She doubted Rodney would ever want Jacob to leave. She’d seen the way they looked at each other. Though Rodney insisted he and the youngest James brother were nothing more than friends, Bridget knew there was something deeper there, waiting to emerge.

Mark put the truck in drive and turned it around. “We need to get to the airport or we’re never going to make our flight.”

Bridget suppressed a shiver as they drove by the wrecked vehicle. “What about him?”

Matt looked out the passenger’s window at the dying flames. “There’s nothing we can do for him now. Jacob said he’d send the police out here. Rodney knows who he was, so he can fill in the local law authorities. Other than that, they’ll just have to wait until we get back to Saratoga after the trial to answer any more questions about the details of the crash.”

Bridget sat up and buckled her seat belt. She caught sight of her reflection in the rearview mirror. There were scratches on her face. She reached up to touch them.

Mark caught her motion. “Some bullets broke the bricks on the side of the bank.” He held up his left arm, showing her his scratches. “I caught some of those little shattered bits too.”

She shivered, partially because of the cold from the broken rear window and partially from fear.

They’d come so close to dying. So very, very close.

They sat in silence as Mark drove. There were no more words left to say.

They’d found the flash drive.

Rodney had been shot.

They’d almost been killed.

She was going home.

A million different thoughts flashed through her mind, none of them landing for long. She was tired of being scared, of being cold. If she could simply walk the last few steps—testify at the trial—her months-long nightmare would be over. It would all be over. Matt and Mark would return to Wyoming and she would be free to return to her normal life.

She was close. So very, very close.

But to what?

Chapter 11

Bridget walked out of the courtroom and pulled her winter coat around her more tightly. It was a bright, sunny day in March, but she couldn’t tell it by the temperature. The weatherman had reported this morning they could expect a bone-chilling day. He’d been right. She suspected the red dial wouldn’t touch the twenty-degree mark.

However, even the cold couldn’t freeze the warmth radiating inside her. The jury had deliberated less than four hours. They’d found Lucian Thompson guilty of first-degree murder. The crooked judge was facing life in prison for his crime, and Lyle’s murder trial was just the first of a long line of court appearances the man faced. Thanks to the information her friend had discovered, the judge was also facing multiple charges of bribery, corruption and coercion. Arrest warrants had been issued for nearly three dozen more criminals as well. Justice had at last been served.

Her solitude only lasted a moment as several people caught sight of her and swarmed. The first to reach her was the Commissioner of the New York City police force. “You and Rodney did a big service for this city. Tell him when you talk to him, his job is waiting for him.”

She nodded. While the offer was wonderful and everything Rodney had hoped for, she wished it hadn’t come at so high a price. “I’ll tell him.”

Several reporters surrounded her, but only one familiar face stood out. Bridget’s editor in chief at The Reporter walked up to her. “You did an amazing job with your testimony. I’m sure that’s what prompted the fast decision. Listen, I was thinking, what if you wrote up a multi-article exclusive on this case from beginning to end for the paper? We’ll run it on the front page over the next few weeks.”

“Front-page articles?” she asked.

“Yeah, you’ve earned them. And Bridget, I’m promoting you from the weekend girl to the news team. You can clean out your cubicle on Monday and move your stuff upstairs to a real office. I’ll even throw in a nice raise.”

She was stunned. She’d landed the promotion she’d wanted for years, but strangely it didn’t make her as happy as she’d expected it would. “Thank you.” Clearly, she just needed time to process. Too many incredible things were coming at her too quickly.

Several other reporters from larger papers, including the Times and the Post, struggled to get closer, all of them yelling questions at her. Cameras began flashing.

“Bridget,” a familiar voice shouted. Looking to her left, she spotted Matt in his cowboy hat waving at her. “Over here, sweetheart. We’ve got the car.”

She fought her way through the pack, simply saying the words “no comment” over and over until she reached Matt. He tucked her securely by his side, using his size and strength to battle the rest of the way to the car. Mark was waiting at the curb with the engine running as Matt opened the back door, helped her in and then crawled in beside her.

As he slammed the door, more cameras flashed and more reporters descended.