Chapter 13 - A Thin Line
Sheriff Cooper tilted his head, his hand resting casually on his gun belt. For five agonizing seconds, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the steady patter of rain dripping from the gutter above the porch. Cooper was no fool; he knew Julian’s dark temper, and he knew Eleanor was protective to a fault.
“Julian’s car hasn’t triggered any toll cameras,” Cooper said quietly. “His phone pinged near the north ridge an hour ago, then went dark.”
“The north ridge has terrible reception,” Eleanor replied, her tone indifferent. “If you find him, Sheriff, tell him my lawyers will be contacting him. Clara is not going back to that house.”
Cooper stared into Eleanor’s unblinking eyes, searching for a tremor of fear, a slip of guilt. He found nothing. Eleanor had buried a husband, raised a daughter alone, and worked this land for decades. She looked him right in the face with the calm authority of someone who had already accounted for every variable.
“I’ll let you know if we hear anything, Eleanor,” Cooper said finally, tipping his hat. “Take care of that arm.”
“Thank you, Sheriff. Drive carefully.”
May you like
Eleanor closed the door and locked it. Upstairs, Clara was already waiting by the back stairs, two duffel bags in hand. The time for waiting was over.
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