Jake watches me, his expression carefully neutral. "Harper, you okay?"
I meet his eyes and I think I see a hint of humor in the shadows. “I’m good.”
Dad steps forward, his hand resting on his duty belt as he surveys me. He looks relieved I’m intact.
No thanks to him.
For a moment, we just stare at each other.
When he speaks, his voice is controlled. "Harper, what happened here?"
Behind me, Jake shifts. I look at my father—at the man who taught me what it means to be a cop, who showed me how to read a crime scene, how to ask the right questions, how to see what people are trying to hide.
"Shots were fired from multiple positions," I say, my voice steady. "We took cover. The shooters fled before I could get a visual. When the shots stopped, I ran to see if I could track them."
It's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either.
Dad's eyes narrow slightly. He knows I’m not telling him everything. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens, the way his gaze flicks past me to Jake, then back to my face.
Of course he knows. He’s known me all my life. He knows all my tells. At least, I hope that’s the reason and not because he knew of Turner’s plans and didn’t stop them.
"Anyone hurt?" he asks finally.
"No," Jake says from behind me. "We got lucky."
Dad nods slowly, his expression unreadable. "I'll need to take statements. Document the scene."
"Of course," Jake says. "But I’m taking Emma and Harper back to Blackthorn. For safety."
It's not a request. Everyone can hear it.
Jim, Emma’s foreman, clears his throat. “I’ll show you the slain animals, Sheriff.”
Dad looks at me again, and I see everything he's not saying. He understands what I'm doing, that I'm choosing Blackthorn's justice over his compromised law—and he's letting me.
My heart sinks, and in this moment, I know it’s definitely over.
"That's probably smart," Dad says finally. His voice is quiet, resigned. "I'll finish up here."
He turns to his approaching deputy. "Start documenting the damage. I want photos of every bullet hole, every broken window."
The deputy nods and heads toward the barn.
Dad looks back at me one more time. There's something in his eyes—regret, maybe, or acceptance. "Be careful, Harper.”
It's not a warning about Turner. It's a goodbye. Swallowing the sadness, I nod. "I will."
Jake steps forward, his hand on Emma's back. "We're leaving now."
Dad nods and steps aside.
I follow Jake and Emma out to the vehicles, my heart pounding, my hands still shaking, knowing there's no going back.
59
LUKE
You busy?