Page 97 of Beckett

The reaction was immediate but wrong. Complete confusion washed over Reggie’s face, genuine bewilderment that even a good actor would struggle to fake.

“What the hell are you talking about? Who’s Jeremy?”

“Your brother. Jeremy. Shot during a drug bust led by Todd Cartland.”

“My brother’s name is Steve, and he lives in Spokane. I don’t know any Jeremy or Todd Cartland. What kind of game are you playing?”

“You tell me,” Lachlan pressed, but I could hear the uncertainty creeping into his voice.

“Look, if Audra or whatever she’s calling herself wants to sleep with a bunch of guys, I don’t give a shit anymore. I just want to get away from her and get on with my life.”

The words hit like ice water. What the fuck? What did that even mean?

Lachlan had gone still in that way that meant he was recalibrating, trying to figure out what had just gone sideways. Through the mirror, I could see the confusion he was trying to hide. This wasn’t going according to script.

He looked directly at the mirror. Just a quick glance, but I knew he was signaling me. He was just as lost as I was.

Something was wrong. Something was very fucking wrong.

An earsplitting tone suddenly filled the station—not an alarm, but the emergency broadcast system they used for announcements. Then a voice boomed through the speakers, clear and unmistakably pissed off.

“Beckett Sinclair, check your fucking phone.”

What the… Travis? He had fucking hijacked the sheriff’s station PA system?

I looked down at my phone, scrolling through the cascade of missed messages. Most were variations of “pick up” and “urgent” and “fucking answer me.” But the last one made my blood turn to ice.

You have the wrong guy.

Lachlan came bursting through the door, badge and professionalism temporarily forgotten. “What the hell is going on?”

I already had Travis on the line, putting him on speaker. “Talk to me.”

“The mug shot in your system is wrong.” Travis’s words came fast, sharp with urgency. “Reggie hacked into the Garnet Bend law enforcement database. Changed his booking photo, altered the fingerprint records to match whoever you have sitting in that room.”

“That’s impossible?—”

“Not for someone with Reggie’s skills. Dude, I am looking at the photo I showed you last night and the one in the system right now, and they are not the same. Similar but not the same. And he changed the fingerprints. Whoever you have in custody, it’s not Reggie Garrison.”

The floor seemed to tilt. Through the window, the man we’d thought was Reggie sat fuming, still rubbing his temples, still complaining about his headache. A stranger. A nobody. Someone Reggie had found who looked similar enough to pass, probably paid him to be in that rest stop, maybe even drugged him to make sure he’d be there sleeping when the cops arrived.

“Jesus Christ,” Lachlan breathed. “He played us.”

The real Reggie Garrison had done the one thing guaranteed to make us drop our guard, the one thing that would leave Audra unprotected.

He’d made us think he’d been caught.

And right now, while we were wasting time with this nobody in interrogation, Audra was at Pawsitive Connections with just Lark for company, relaxing for the first time in over a year, finally feeling safe.

Reggie was going after her.

Chapter 32

Audra

The morning sun warmed my shoulders as I carried fresh water to the rabbit hutches, and for the first time, I wasn’t afraid.

Reggie Garrison was in custody. Locked in a cell at the Garnet Bend sheriff’s station. Beckett had sent Lark a text an hour ago and asked her to pass along the info to me.