Page 16 of Outlaw Ridge: Griff
“Nope,” Griff said. “They didn’t care about hiding it. They just wanted you to see it burn.”
Griff watched her carefully, noting the anger creeping back into her expression. Not panic. Not even fear. Just the cold, sharp focus that came with a good cop being pissed off.
Griff reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen a few times. He turned the phone around and slid it across the counter to Lily.
“Hallie also got something back from the lab,” he said. “The tech cleaned up the security footage. This is what they got.”
Lily leaned in, her shoulders tensing slightly as she studied the image.
The photo was clearer than what they’d seen on the feed last night. Sharper edges, enhanced contrast. A figure in a dark hoodie and jeans crouched near her SUV. The mask they wore—tight black fabric, full face, no logo—looked like something you’d buy at a tactical supply store.
Not one inch of skin showed. No reflective patches. Nothing obvious to latch onto.
“No face,” she said after a moment.
“Nope,” Griff said. “And because of the way he or she stayed crouched when moving, it’s hard to tell size and height.”
Lily kept her eyes on the screen. “So, even with the image being cleaned up, it’s still vague.”
“Vague’s better than nothing,” he replied. “And this—” he tapped the image, “this tells me whoever this is knew where the cameras were and how to move. Fast. Quiet.”
She nodded, but her jaw was tight, and her fingers curled slightly on the edge of the counter. “They’re careful,” she said. “But they’re not invisible.”
“No,” Griff agreed. “They’re not.”
Now that he had a somewhat clearer image, a growing list of names, and a reason to push even harder. He was going to find this person. And when he did, they’d know what it felt like to be hunted.
They finished breakfast in silence, the kind that came not from discomfort but from mutual understanding. No need to fill the space with words. There was work to do.
Lily stood first, taking her plate and cup to the sink without being asked. Griff followed, rinsing his and loading both into the dishwasher. It was quick, efficient, like everything else they did together. They moved around each other easily, without stepping on each other’s toes.
Once the counter was clear and the coffee thermos was filled, they grabbed their coats from the hooks near the door. Griff pulled on his heavy canvas jacket that was lined for cold mornings like this. Lily zipped hers up to her chin, her expression unreadable now, locked in.
They stepped outside, boots crunching over gravel, the sun just breaking over the horizon. Pale light painted the frost-covered field in silver, casting long shadows toward the woods.
Griff’s eyes swept the perimeter as they moved toward his truck. So did Lily’s. He caught the flick of her gaze toward the trees, the measured glance across the field. Same instincts. Same unease.
Nothing moved.
That didn’t surprise him.
He had motion detectors strung across the perimeter, hidden and tight. If anyone had crossed the line between the trees and the house, he’d have known. Still, just because the sensors hadn’t gone off didn’t mean someone hadn’t been out there. Watching. Waiting.
He opened the truck door for her, his eyes still scanning the horizon. “Let’s see what today turns up,” he said.
Lily climbed in without a word.
Griff shut the door and circled around to the driver’s side, every muscle taut. Someone had made a move. Several of them. The threatening texts, the tires, the fire, and those blasted photos.
Now it was Lily and his turn to find this bastard and make them pay.
Griff took the long way into town. He didn’t drive past Lily’s place, or rather what was left of it. And he definitely didn’t go near her childhood home. She didn’t ask him to avoid either, but some things didn’t need to be said.
As usual, the morning traffic was light. A few trucks passed them going the other way, their tires kicking up dust from the shoulder. The diner was open, lights glowing warm through the front windows, a handful of regulars parked out front. It looked normal, familiar. But everything about the day felt different now.
When they arrived at the station, he saw that the lot was busier than usual. A mechanic in navy coveralls was crouched next to Lily’s SUV, working one of the new tires into place. Another already leaned against the wall. Brand new, good tread.
“The new tires are Hallie’s doing,” Griff said, parking a few spots over. “She didn’t want you driving around on a donut.”
