Trigger leaned forward. “Active?”
“No.” His expression darkened. “Officially dead.”
The room went quiet.
Cold slid slowly down my spine.
“What does that mean?” I whispered.
Hersh answered before the sheriff could.
“It means Shepherd’s been recruiting ghosts.”
He nodded grimly.
“These men died years ago on paper.”
I looked between all of them.
“You’re saying there are more?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Which was answer enough.
Thunder rumbled softly outside again.
The storm still hadn’t fully passed.
Neither had the feeling crawling beneath my skin since seeing that photograph.
Like eyes still watched this ranch from somewhere beyond the dark.
Hersh noticed me shiver instantly.
His hand slid quietly over my knee beneath the table.
Grounding me.
Protecting me without making a scene about it.
The simple touch settled something inside me immediately.
The sheriff noticed too.
Actually—
everyone noticed.
Wolf smirked into his coffee.
Trigger looked suspiciously entertained.
Hersh ignored them all.
The sheriff cleared his throat awkwardly and returned to the file.
“There’s something else.”
