The engine hummed a steady rhythm beneath the hood, mirroring the pulse that thrummed through his veins. His jaw set, thoughts of Willow ignited a fire within him that no amount of whiskey could douse. Every malicious word aimed at her only fueled the flames, and now, as he drove, those flames burned even hotter.
He passed long country roads, but Eli saw none of it. Each mile eaten up under the tires of his truck brought him closer to making this right again for Willow. A sigh of relief escaped him when he drove into downtown and parked at the curb. He got out of his truck and strode into the Timber Falls Police Station.
“Morning, Eli,” greeted Jenny, the receptionist in the police station. Her voice was as warm and familiar as it had been back in high school when they’d shared classes and occasional small talk.
“Hey,” he replied with a nod, offering a smile. “How things been?”
“Can’t complain,” she said with kind blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “What can I do for you?”
“Is Detective Harris in?” he asked. Harris had been the lead detective on his sister’s homicide case.
She nodded. “He’s in his office. Go on back.”
“Thanks.”
“Anytime,” she replied, as he turned toward the corridor leading to the detective’s office.
The protective impulse toward Willow burned deep as he walked, steeling himself for the conversation ahead. Eli knew he was stepping into deeper waters with each stride he took, but there was no turning back. Not when it came to Willow. Not when every fiber of his being screamed to stand by her side.
Eli rapped his knuckles against the solid oak door. A gruff voice called out from within, “Come in.”
Pushing the door inward, Eli stepped into the sparsely decorated office that carried a scent of coffee and old files. Behind a cluttered desk sat Detective Harris, his dark hair cropped close to his scalp, lines etched around his eyes from years of squinting at crime scenes under harsh suns and dim flashlights.
“Harris,” Eli greeted him.
“There’s a face I wasn’t expecting to see today,” Harris said, rising from his chair, offering his hand. “Been too long.”
“Too long,” Eli agreed, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He took the seat across from Harris after returning the handshake, noticing the family portrait that claimed pride of place on the detective’s desk. The baby was a new addition, or at least new since Eli last visited.
“Your sister’s case,” Harris began, as he sat back down, “never sits far from my mind.”
Harris was once a stranger, but he’d become a friend during those tough days. More than anything, Harris had been kind to Eli’s mother, and Eli would never forget that. “Appreciate that,” Eli replied, his throat tightening for a moment before he shifted the conversation away from the pain of the past. “How’s the family? See you have a new baby.”
“A daughter,” Harris confirmed, the weariness in his eyes giving way to a spark of pride as he glanced at the family photo. “Heidi. She was born a few months ago.”
“Good to hear. Congratulations,” Eli said genuinely. “And Sarah?” His wife. “She still teaching over at the high school?”
“I don’t think she’ll ever leave.” Harris chuckled. “She’s got the patience of a saint, dealing with those teenagers day in and day out.”
“I’m sure they appreciate her,” Eli said, allowing himself a brief smile before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. His mind churned with images of Willow, her usually vibrant green eyes clouded with fear, her delicate hand trembling in his.
Harris expression firmed. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“Something’s come up, and I hoped you could do me a favor,” Eli began. “Someone’s been messing with one of the new owners of The Naked Moose, Willow Quinn. She’s a good friend, and it doesn’t sit right.”
“Details, Eli. I need details.” Harris grabbed a notepad and his pen hovered above, ready to capture every word.
“A couple days ago, an anonymous account posted a comment on the bar’s social media page saying that Willow is spouting false claims of abuse in her Christmas-crafting support group at the bar. They’re making crafts to sell at the Christmas market to raise money for the shelter, Haley’s Place.” Eli’s jaw tightened at the memory. “Last night she got a text—so this person now has her personal phone number.”
“Are they threatening her?” Harris asked.
Eli’s hands clenched into fists, released, then clenched again. “They’re calling her a lying bitch. She’s scared—that’s enough of a threat.”
“Understood.” Harris nodded, his demeanor professional yet tinged with empathy. “What do you need from me?”
“Her ex-boyfriend, Niko Sanchez, is violent.” He’d heard Charly mention his full name to Jaxon once, and he had never forgotten it—wouldneverforget it. “He should be locked up in Portland, but I need to make sure he’s still there. Need to make sure he can’t get to her.”
“Got it.” Harris nodded. “You think he’s behind this? Trying to attack her character?”
