Silence descended, making the sounds from the ventilator scream.
“We need to look at your phone and trace the calls you received as well,” the sheriff said.
Maisey’s gaze met mine, and for a moment, panic flitted over her face. “You’ll read my messages?”
Wylee’s brows drew together. “We’ll keep it to the ones from the unknown number Beckett told Cleaver about, but I want to have the phone checked for tracking software and cloning apps.”
Maisey’s cheeks turned pink, and I realized what she was worried about. It brought the first spark of amusement I’d felt in hours. “Darlin’, don’t worry. I’m sure Wylee here has sent similar messages to his wife.”
My comment didn’t help. Maisey flushed even more. The color spread down her neck, and I knew exactly what it would look like all over her body now. I’d watched the delightful red coat every inch when I’d whispered words of encouragement to her last night before she’d come apart under me and over me repeatedly.
The sheriff finally caught on to what the issue was and hid a smile behind his hand. “Ah. Yes. Well. No need for us to look at those. We’ll concentrate on the texts you got today and use a keyword search for anything else we think is relevant. We’ll do our best to maintain your privacy while also ensuring the phone is safe for you to use. I’ll try to have it back to you by the end of the day, tomorrow morning at the latest.”
Maisey’s throat bobbed again before her shoulders went back, and she dragged her phone out of the pocket of her jeans. “Whatever it takes.”
Wylee combined hers with her dad’s phone and then said gently, “Nowcomes the hardest part, sweetheart. I need you to leave the hospital.”
“What? No!” She shook her head vehemently, grasping her dad’s hand. “He needs to hear my voice. He needs to know I’m here waiting for him, so he’ll fight harder.”
The sheriff patted her shoulder and then squeezed. “If we want the bastard to believe they won this round, they need to think your dad is gone. You wouldn’t stick around if that were the case.”
Sadness rippled across her face. “You’re right.” She rubbed her eyes, the glassy look in them worse than it had been before. She glanced from me to the sheriff. “I should leave town too, right? Like they asked? To protect everyone?”
“No,” I insisted.
She ignored me. “It’s not just me. If I stay, it puts Beckett and Fallon and Lila at risk too. The entire ranch. Think of all the people staying there right now and all the people from our community who will be there tomorrow for the Fourth. It’s stupid to endanger everyone when I can easily do what they want and leave.”
I made some inarticulate noise of objection, and her face softened. “Just until the sheriff catches whomever this is, Beckett. You know this is the smart play.”
“You’re not leaving. I’m not letting you out of my sight, Maisey. Not for one damn minute with some whack-job out there targeting you,” I growled.
Wylee dragged a hand over his white beard. “Let’s all take a breath. Truth is, we might get more out of whomever this is if you stay, Maisey. They’ll be pissed if you don’t follow through, but it also puts you at greater risk.”
Maisey pressed a hand to her stomach. “I won’t be responsible for someone else I love getting hurt…or worse.”
“We can count on Steele to protect his wife, family, and the ranch,” the sheriff said. “He’s done a mighty good job of it in the past. Once he knows about this threat, he’ll increase the security there, even more than he normally does for the holiday. Anything suspicious will raise a flag with his team and mine. And when you don’t leave, the bastard will reach out to you again, and we can trace the calls or texts in real time.”
Every fiber of my being hated the idea of her staying and being bait for a killer as much as it did the idea of her leaving. But I wouldn’t let her out of my sight, and we had a retired Navy SEAL at my house, with even more SEALs at her father’s place, where Parker had placed them.
As long as Maisey didn’t run off again, we could protect her.
Uncertain, she stood, kissed her father on the forehead, whisperedsomething in his ear, and then squeezed his hand. I met her at the foot of the bed and tucked her close to me once again. At the door, she looked back, and tears pooled once more.
“It hurts to leave him.” Pain rippled through the words.
“I know, Maise. I know.”
As we left the room, Cleaver stepped in beside us, and Wylee said, “Steele told me about his teammates hanging out at your dad’s and Beckett’s. I’m sticking Deputy Cleaver outside your place too. We’re also trying to get a hold of the Helmers to see if we can move their renters out and put in an undercover unit there. I’m hoping we’ll have them situated by tonight.”
The four of us exited the hospital together, and by the time we did, the tears were traveling down Maisey’s face unchecked.
While I’d always hated her tears, this time they served a purpose more important than emotional release—one I wasn’t sure she’d even realized. If this asshole was watching, they’d see a distraught Maisey leaving the hospital, just like they’d expect if her dad had really died.
Still, my chest tore at her anguish.
I desperately wanted to hand some pain back to the person who’d done this to her. I wanted to hand them hours of torment for every second they’d caused her. If I had my way, they’d never escape pain again. They’d live with it until they took their very last breath.
Chapter Thirty-two