Page 15 of Fractured Memories

Felicity handed him the rest of the Twizzlers. “Share these with the other officers, would you?”

“Sure thing.” Grady’s mouth thinned. “Be careful, Felicity. Whoever this guy is, he’s determined. Shooting at two cops in broad daylight takes nerve.”

She nodded, praying the technicians would find a lone fingerprint in the truck. Identifying the perpetrator would go a long way. In the meantime, she’d keep working Brooke’s case. It was the fastest way to get to the bottom of things.

With a last wave to Grady, Felicity hopped into Noah’s vehicle. The air-conditioning was a blessing after baking in the afternoon heat. She melted against the seat, letting the cool air wash over her face.

There was a conversation that needed to happen between her and Noah. One her conscience wouldn’t let her avoid now that they were shielded from the prying eyes of everyone in the gas station parking lot.

She cleared her throat. “The shooter aimed for you. Maybe it was because you were returning fire, but it could’ve been because you’re helping me investigate Brooke’s case.” Felicity hated the idea that her actions had placed him at risk. “You nearly died today. And yesterday. We have dangerous jobs, I get that, but this is turning out to be riskier than anyone could’ve anticipated. Noah, you have a daughter. I wouldn’t blame youone bit for passing this case over to the Rangers to handle.”

He was quiet for a long moment, staring at the lake and the picnic table they’d eaten lunch at earlier. “I took an oath to protect this town. I refuse to let a pair of thugs threaten it. Or you.” Noah’s gaze swung to meet hers. The determination shimmering in the depths of his blue eyes was breathtaking. “I appreciate the consideration, Felicity, but I’m in this with you. Together, we’re going to find the truth. You have my word.”

ELEVEN

Noah’s muscles were tense, and he was sporting the beginning of a headache when he turned onto the dirt road leading to the homeless camp. Afternoon sunlight glinted off the hood of the Tahoe. The inside of the cab smelled like french fries and warm burgers. Thanks to the shooting at the gas station, he’d chucked the meals purchased at the fast-food place—the summer heat had ruined them—but the bottles of water and the toiletries were fine.

Felicity gripped the handle over the door and peered through the windshield. “This place is pretty remote.”

“Most of the residents prefer it. Out here, no one bothers them. The property belongs to the Jameson family. It’s tied up in probate court, and while technically the tenants are trespassing, no one has demanded they be removed.”

Ahead, a clearing appeared. Tents dotted thelandscape, some disappearing into the trees. A common firepit was available to cook food or warm up if the night was chilly. Several beat-up vehicles sat under the shade created by thick pine branches.

Rick Paulson, unofficial leader, leaned against a makeshift table. His tennis shoes and T-shirt had holes and his jeans were muddy. A thick beard covered the lower half of his face. He squinted suspiciously until his gaze registered Noah at the wheel and then his expression softened.

“Let me do most of the talking.” Noah cast a warning glance toward Felicity. “And stick close. These people don’t take kindly to strangers.”

She arched a brow. “Sounds like I should be worried.”

“Naw. You’re physically safe, but rub them the wrong way, and everyone in camp will clam up. They protect each other.”

“Got it.”

They exited the vehicle. Rick ambled over as Noah lifted the rear hatch. He eyed the supplies in the back of the Tahoe before turning a judgmental gaze on Felicity. “Who’s that?”

“Ranger Capshaw. She’s with me.” Noah pulled out a bag of supplies and handed it to the older man before grabbing several cases of water. “You want these in the usual spot?”

“Yep.” Rick spit a wad of tobacco juice toward a crop of nearby weeds. He took another bag from Felicity’s outstretched hand so she could grab bottles of Gatorade. “’Preciate the water. Heat wave a’coming and the stream is getting low. By August, we’re gonna have to move someplace else if this keeps up.”

Noah hauled the water onto the rickety table. The wood groaned in protest under the weight. The back of his neck itched with the feel of eyes on him, but he ignored the sensation. Most of the residents liked to steer clear of law enforcement. Some of them were addicts who’d had run-ins with the police and would again in the future. Others were simply leery. Once Noah and Felicity left, the people hiding in their tents would emerge to take advantage of the supplies.

Rick, for all his rudeness to strangers, was a fair leader. He doled out donations equally and never kept more for himself. Drug and alcohol abuse was tolerated in the camp, but not violence. Any theft resulted in immediate expulsion. Noah often wondered why Rick pursued this way of life. He’d asked him once, but the man had simply said that he liked being free to do as he pleased.

Noah glanced at the small riverbank several yards away. Sure enough, the water level was low. The camp used it for drinking, washing their clothes, and bathing. He envisioned heat stroke and death if the group didn’t have enough access to fluids for hydration. “I’ll let Pastor Isaiah at the church know. He’ll organize a donation drive for y’all.”

Rick spat another wad of tobacco juice in the weeds. “Don’t bother. That man comes out here and preaches atus. We don’t like it. Don’t need none of that Jesus business.”

In Noah’s opinion, everyone could use more of that Jesus business, but he kept that thought to himself. “Easier to have a conversation or two with the pastor in exchange for water than packing up the entire camp.”

The older man grunted, lifting a filthy ball cap from his head. Three strands of gray hair clung to his scalp. “I’ll think about it.” He settled the hat back in place and then squinted at Noah before jerking his chin toward Felicity. “Is she another do-gooder? Or is someone here in trouble with the law?”

“No one is in trouble, but we’d like to speak to Jeremy.”

Rick’s gaze narrowed. “If all you want to do is talk, then why bring her?”

Noah ignored the way the man refused to speak to or use Felicity’s name. Yes, Rick was being purposefully rude, but calling it out would be counterproductive. “Ranger Capshaw is partnering with me on a case. Again, Jeremy isn’t in trouble. We just need to ask him a few questions.” He held Rick’s gaze. “I’ve never lied to you before and have no reason to start now.”

Rick mulled that over and then spat more tobacco juice. “Jeremy’s in his usual spot, but he ain’t doing so great.” He pointed to his temple. “Ain’t been right in the head for a couple of days. Tried to get him to eat yesterday, but he refused.”

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