Page 11 of Montana Justice

Lachlan

The coffee in my mug had gone cold hours ago, but I kept taking absent sips anyway, my mind churning through everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

I had a son. The thought hit me fresh every time, like a punch to the gut that somehow felt good and terrifying at the same time. Caleb . Those dark eyes that were so familiar, the way he’d settled against my chest like he belonged there.

But also, what the hell did I know about being a father?

This was not the way I’d planned it. Having a child hadn’t even been on my bingo card for anywhere in the near future, much less fucking yesterday .

But I had a five-month-old son and a woman I couldn’t trust living in my house, and now I guessed I was supposed to figure it out as I went.

And I would.

The protective instinct that had kicked in the moment I’d looked into Caleb’s eyes was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Fierce and immediate and absolutely terrifying. This tiny person was depending on me, and I had no idea what I was doing.

And Piper. Beautiful, broken Piper, who’d stolen from me once and might do it again.

Who’d kept my son from me for months but had also clearly sacrificed everything to take care of him.

How was I supposed to balance being grateful that she’d brought Caleb to me with the fact that she’d lied about everything else?

Sleep had been impossible last night. After she’d gone to bed in the guest room with Caleb, I’d paced my house for hours, wrestling with questions I couldn’t answer. What if she ran again? What if I woke up and they were both gone?

That last thought had driven me out into the night. An hour drive to Billings, to the twenty-four-hour electronics store where I’d bought three wireless cameras and a GPS tracker. Another stop at a phone store that stayed open late.

The nanny cams were sitting throughout my house now—one in the living room behind a plant, another in the kitchen tucked between some cookbooks, a third in the hallway.

The tracker was a different story. I’d spent twenty minutes crouched beside her beat-up Honda in my driveway at two in the morning, attaching the small device to the underside of her bumper.

Illegal as hell. I could lose my job if anyone found out. But I’d rather face a misdemeanor charge than lose my son.

The cell phone sat in my desk drawer, still in its box. I’d give it to Piper later, tell her it was so we could stay in contact. She needed one anyway—what if there was an emergency with Caleb and she couldn’t reach me?

After a couple hours sleep, I’d woken up still not sure what I should do or say.

Did she need help with the baby? She hadn’t asked for another bottle, so instead, I’d made breakfast for the two of us—scrambled eggs, toast, bacon—while Piper sat at my kitchen table looking like she expected me to change my mind and throw her out at any second.

“Coffee?” I’d offered, holding up the pot.

“Please.” Her voice had been barely above a whisper, and when I’d set the mug in front of her, she’d wrapped both hands around it like she was trying to absorb its warmth.

Those dark circles under her eyes were still pronounced, her movements careful and measured. She’d eaten slowly, mechanically, cutting her eggs into tiny bites and chewing each one thoroughly. Like she was forcing herself to consume every calorie.

“You’ll be okay here today while I go to work?” I’d asked.

“We’ll be fine.” She’d glanced toward the living room where Caleb was sleeping peacefully in his carrier. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“You’re not trouble. Either of you. Rest when you can. You still look exhausted.” The words had come out rougher than I’d intended, and she’d flinched slightly.

She’d nodded, focusing on her toast. “Thank you. For letting us stay.”

I’d wanted to say more, but Caleb had started fussing, and she’d immediately turned her attention to him, that protective instinct taking over. The conversation had died there, buried under the weight of everything we hadn’t talked about.

Now, sitting in my office with case files spread across my desk, I couldn’t concentrate on anything.

The nanny cam app on my phone showed a live feed from my house, and I’d already checked it twice this morning.

Both times, everything had looked normal.

Piper feeding Caleb, changing his diaper, talking to him in soft tones.

A knock on my office door pulled me from my thoughts. “Come in.”

Beckett Sinclair pushed through the door, followed by Hunter Everett. Both men looked serious, which immediately put me on alert. Hunter ran Warrior Security at the Resting Warrior Ranch, and when he showed up at the sheriff’s office, it usually meant trouble.

“Morning, Lach.” Beckett settled into one of the chairs across from my desk, like he had dozens of times since I’d become sheriff. “We need to talk.”

Hunter remained standing, his posture alert and focused. “We’ve been hearing rumors. About illegal firearms trafficking in the area.”

I leaned back in my chair, forcing myself to give them my full attention. “What kind of rumors?”

“The kind that usually turn out to be true.” Hunter’s expression was grim. “We’ve got contacts throughout the state—other security firms, law enforcement, people who keep their ears open. Multiple sources are saying there’s a significant operation moving weapons through this part of Montana.”

Hunter had been Special Forces before taking over Warrior Security. His cousin, Lucas Everett, helped run Resting Warrior with six other former SEALs. All good men I’d gladly have at my back anytime. Hunter wasn’t one to cry wolf. If he was bringing this to me, it was serious.

“Automatic weapons,” Beckett added. “Military-grade stuff that shouldn’t be in civilian hands. The kind of firepower that ends up in the wrong hands and gets people killed.”

“Any specifics? Names, locations, time frames?”

“That’s the problem.” Hunter shook his head. “It’s all vague so far. Whispers about someone moving serious hardware through rural areas, using hunting cabins and abandoned barns for storage. Someone smart enough to stay under the radar.”

“And it’s not just guns.” Beckett’s jaw tightened. “We’re hearing about opioids too. Fentanyl, specifically. Someone’s using the isolation of rural communities to move drugs without detection.”

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.”

“Hold on, Sheriff. Let me get her.”

Faith came on the line within seconds. “Lachlan? What’s wrong?”

“I need a favor, Faith. A big one. I’ve got someone at my house who needs medical attention, but she won’t come to the office. Any chance you could make a house call?”

“A house call?” Faith’s voice carried surprise. “I don’t usually… What kind of medical attention are we talking about?”

“Severe exhaustion, possible malnutrition, some kind of fainting spells. She’s got a baby with her, and I’m worried about both of them.”

“Is this an emergency? Should I call an ambulance?”

“No, nothing that immediate. But I don’t think she’ll come to you, and I can’t force her. She’s… It’s complicated.”

Faith was quiet for a moment. “You’re talking about someone you care about.”

It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t deny it. Could I care about someone I didn’t trust? Apparently the answer was yes, because despite everything, the thought of Piper suffering made my chest tight with worry.

“Can you help?”

“Give me your address. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

Relief flooded through me. “Thank you, Faith. I owe you.”

“Just take care of whoever needs taking care of, Lachlan. We’ll worry about favors later.”

As I pulled into my driveway, I could see Piper through the living room window. She was sitting on the couch next to Caleb, her head in her hands again. Whatever was wrong with her, it was more than just being tired.

And I was going to find out what it was, whether she wanted to tell me or not.