“I think I’ve got something,” Dallas said, his voice quieting as Harlan shushed him.

“The girls fell asleep on the couch. I have to take them upstairs.” Harlan gestured over to the two tiny lumps under a large comforter on the couch. “Mom wasn’t feeling well tonight, so they camped out here with me while I was working.”

“Working on Tim’s case?” Dallas asked, peeking at the girls to make sure they weren’t stirring.

“Yes, and I found something too,” Harlan said, silently clapping her hands together in excitement. “Let me take them up to bed, then I’ll come back and tell you.”

“I’ll carry them up,” Dallas said, wondering how Harlan would navigate the stairs with even one of the girls in her arms.

“I’ve been lugging these two around for all these years. Usually with groceries at the same time.”

“But right now you don’t have to,” Dallas said, gingerly lifting Anna up and resting her head on one shoulder then doing the same to Logan. He moved up the stairs, trailing behind Harlan, not able to tell if she felt he was overstepping his position.

When both girls were tucked in, Harlan’s sweet kisses planted on their foreheads, they backed out of the room and went downstairs.

“What did you find?” Harlan asked as she clutched a folder she’d just lifted from the desk.

“You first,” he said, gesturing at the folder. “You look anxious to tell me.”

“I am,” she divulged, flipping it open and spinning a photograph toward him to see. “I spent time today looking through archived newspaper articles. At first I was just looking at everything relevant to the case. Then I realized I should look farther back at the victim, Angus. He was a business owner in the community and lived there his whole life.”

“That’s him,” Dallas praised her with a wide smile. “It’s the opening of his newest restaurant on Church Street.”

“And that is Larry Monroe,” Harlan explained, pointing to the man positioned to Angus’s left. “I checked the testimony on the court records that Melissa shared, and Larry testified he’d never met Angus. Yet here they are at the opening of a restaurant three months before Angus is murdered. They’re just inches from each other.”

“He knew him?” Dallas noted, the wheels in his head speeding into action. “So at a minimum he perjured himself.”

“Well,” Harlan cautioned, “he could easily still claim just because they were in close proximity to each other while the picture was snapped, they didn’t really know each other.”

“But you think he’s lying about that?” Dallas asked, scanning every inch of the photograph as if something new would appear out of thin air.

“I think this is a lead. If Larry did know Angus, how well did he know him? Did they have some kind of business relationship? Was there a dispute of some kind?”

“Tim finally opened up to me more about Larry today. Maybe what I’ve got will help us answer your questions. I already had a look at Larry’s rap sheet. It reads like a criminal who sucks at his job. He’s been picked up for mugging people, stealing cars, and breaking and entering.”

“Do people like that normally leap to murder?” Harlan asked, flipping through the stack of papers to find a laundry list of arrests for Larry.

“All of his crimes were nonviolent, even the muggings. He didn’t have a weapon, just his hand jammed in his pocket to look like a gun. But more than that, none of the crimes were necessary either.”

“Are any crimes necessary?” Harlan challenged.

“If your children were starving to death, would you steal a loaf of bread?” Dallas knew the answer to the question. Harlan would do anything for her children.

“No,” Harlan asserted. “I wouldn’t steal any bread. I’d get them something far better than plain old bread. I’d be cramming milk and meat in my shirt and running as fast as I could out of the store. I’d hit an old lady with my car if she got in my way.”

“You’re making my point,” Dallas laughed. “Some people commit crimes out of need. Some things, in my eyes, may not be justifiable, but they are understandable.”

“That’s interesting to hear from a former police officer,” Harlan hummed. “I thought you all toed the line.”

“That’s likely why I’m not a cop anymore. I prefer to have my own opinions. Even the unpopular ones.”

“But Larry’s crimes weren’t justified?” Harlan asked.

“Forget justified. They were all crimes driven by one thing.”

“Money?”

“Exactly, but Larry was from a well-off family. According to Tim, Larry never stole things he needed. He had a trust fund and access to whatever he wanted.”

“So why do it? Why get yourself into trouble this many times?”

“With his family’s clout, I’m sure there were more arrests than are recorded, and he avoided prosecution. Tim says Larry’s family had cut him off. Larry would have been desperate to get out of trouble, so he turned Tim in.”

Harlan was scanning the documents quickly, shaking her head in disbelief, pointing down at each arrest. “Then why steal this car? Why rob the bakery by his house? Maybe there is something wrong with him, some kind of mental illness.”

“Larry wanted to be something he wasn’t. He was running with people from completely different backgrounds, ones who committed crimes out of need. He was just a wannabe.”

“What does that tell us?” Harlan tucked her falling hair behind her ears and tapped her chin thoughtfully. “We know he had some level of familiarity with the murder victim, and he spent most of his youth and young adulthood committing crimes in an effort to fit in. We certainly don’t have enough here for Melissa to work with. We’ll need a hell of a lot more.”

“It’s something,” Dallas countered. “We know more about Larry today than we did yesterday. If we can find a link between Larry and the murder victim, we might have more leads to follow.”

“Can I say something?” Harlan asked tentatively.

“Do you normally ask permission? I thought you just said the first thing that came to your mind, no matter the situation.”

“I’m afraid this might hurt your feelings, or ego, or whatever.” She raised her finger to her mouth and nibbled nervously. “I might be overstepping.”

“Only one way to find out.” Dallas shrugged, gesturing for her to just spit it out. “I’m a big boy.”

“What if you are getting your hopes up?” She averted her eyes, unable to keep the stare. “Let’s say you chase and chase but never find what you’re looking for. Do you just do all of this until you die? Is that the plan?”

“I love that you think I’ve got a plan,” Dallas joked. “Are you asking me if my hopes are too high? By nature, I’m usually a pretty practical guy who tends to focus on facts and reality. Most guys like me, they don’t do hope.”

“But you do?” Harlan questioned warmly, knowing his sweet smile had more to say.

“I do,” Dallas agreed. “And my hopes are high. Unrealistically so. I want my friend home. I want to be able to grab a beer with him any time and complain about the small simple things we’ve been missing. Anything short of that and you’re damn right: I’ll be disappointed.”

“But when . . .” She shook her head, silently chastising herself. “If you don’t get that, will you be able to move on?”

“No,” Dallas admitted flatly.

“The law is pretty finite. There are steps, and only so many of them, after a conviction. There is an end of the road.”

“Legally.” Dallas sighed. “Legally we could exhaust all of Tim’s options. But there is more to this than just the law. There is justice. There is settling the score.”

“I want to be helpful,” Harlan stammered, clearly searching for the right words. “I’m worried I won’t know what to do to help you. What if you get to a dark place?”

“You won’t be able to fix what’s wrong. I suggest you find a way to make peace with that, because if I do end up in that dark place, you’ve got too many things in your life to follow me.”

“One day at a time,” Harlan said. “Today we have something.”

“I’ll take this picture to Tim next time I visit.” Dallas thought of how Tim squirmed in his chair, uncomfortable to have to even speculate about why his friend Larry might have sold him out and destroyed his life. That’s how Tim was, he was perfectly comfortable being the punching bag, but throwing any jabs didn’t sit right with him.

“It’ll work out,” Harlan announced, grabbing some Scotch from a crystal decanter and pouring a small glass for both of them. Handing it over, she lingered close, tapping her glass to his. “To everything working out exactly how it was meant to.”

“Cheers,” he smiled, running his thumb along her chin. Dropping his hand abruptly he downed the liquid in one swig.

“Want to get dirty?” Harlan asked, a sparkle in her eyes that sent shockwaves through his body.

“I thought we agreed,” he said as he slipped one hand down her back and closed the little space between them. “We know better. We’re grown-ups.”

“We do, and we are,” Harlan cooed, licking at her lips and placing one hand on his rock hard chest. “I was talking about the attic.”

“The attic . . . that might be fun.” His hand cupped her ass and squeezed.

“There’s a box of old legal books up there,” she said, but didn’t pull away. “It’s dirty up there.”

“You should be punished for being so cruel,” Dallas hissed into her ear as he let her go. “Lead me to the attic.”

“Just remember when your replacement gets here how badly I need to be punished.” A fire blazed in her eyes.

Dallas’s phone chirped with a message, and he reluctantly grabbed it from his pocket.

Guard: Disturbance at the gate.

“Shit,” he breathed, shaking the fog out of his head. “I’ve got to check the front gate. Lock the door behind me and don’t follow me out this time. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Do you think it’s—?”

“I don’t know,” Dallas said, jogging outside. “But I’ve got it under control. Stay put.”

Harlan’s face was ghost white, her eyes wide as she folded her arms over herself. “Be careful,” she begged as he closed the door tightly behind him.

Breaking into a full sprint, Dallas drew his weapon and headed for the front gate. The commotion was enough to cut through the silence of the night.

“Just take it easy,” the guard at the gate instructed someone Dallas could not see.

“She’s keeping me from them,” Rylie yelled out into the darkness of the night. “I want my kids. I want them.”

“Call the police,” Dallas instructed as he holstered his gun. There would be no need for it now that he knew who he was dealing with. “The only thing you’re going to see tonight is the inside of a cruiser, and what you do next determines if a prison cell is in your future.

“You can’t keep me from them,” Rylie yelled. “I’m going to see them. I love them. They deserve their father.”

“I guess you and I can agree on that,” Dallas said, staring through the metal fence. “They do deserve their father. Any chance that guy is still in there?” He pointed to Rylie’s chest.

“You don’t know a damn thing.”

“Go get help,” Dallas instructed. “I’ll have a car come pick you up and get you into rehab. All you have to do is want to get help. I’ll make sure you get what you need.”

“Go to hell,” Rylie barked. “I don’t need some meathead idiot telling me what to do with my family. You’re hired help. You don’t know shit.” He slammed a hand to his own chest so hard he nearly fell over. “Let me in, or I’ll take all three of you out.”

“There’s only two of us,” the guard remarked, a small snicker. “You really are hammered, huh?”

Sometimes Dallas was certain he was clairvoyant. It was more likely that he’d honed his skill at reading body language and anticipating situations, but he could usually tell what someone was going to do before they did it. This was no exception. Rylie cocked his fist back sloppily and lunged toward the guard, who sidestepped quickly. With an embarrassingly loud croaking noise Rylie skidded over his own feet and hit the dirt.

“Stay down,” Dallas groaned, waving off the guard, who looked ready to pounce with some heavy-handed retribution. “Rylie, I’m sure you’re not a bad guy, but right now you’re acting like an asshole. I’m calling a car to get you out of here.”

“You don’t know shit about me,” Rylie argued, flopping over on his back looking like a truly broken man.

“I don’t,” Dallas agreed, sticking a hand down to pull Rylie back to his feet. “But I’ve spent enough time with Harlan to realize she wouldn’t have settled for a guy without any redeeming qualities.” Lifting Rylie up in one move, he settled him back on his feet and knocked a bit of the dust off his shoulder.

Rylie shoved him back, clearly not wanting his help. “Spending a lot of time with my wife?”

“Protecting her,” Dallas corrected, puffing his chest out, letting Rylie know there were limits to his kindness. “I’m good at my job. Don’t become someone I need to protect her from. You’ll regret that.”

“I’ll regret that,” Rylie mocked, gesturing frantically. “Big tough guy.”

“Rylie,” Dallas demanded, “here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to plant your ass on that bench. I’m going to call for a car. It’s going to take you to a place. My friend Lilly, she’s going to help you out.”

“I don’t want some skank,” Rylie began, but his mouth snapped shut as Dallas shoved him onto the bench in a sitting position.

“Lilly is a doctor. She specializes in detox. You don’t want to go into rehab, that’s fine. You give Lilly a couple of days and she’ll help you start to get your head straight.”

“They’re right in there,” Rylie said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I bet they’re in bed. I bet they are in those pink pajamas with the frilly sleeves.”

“There’s a path back,” Dallas said. “Not back to exactly where you were. Not back to where you started, not back to everything you had. But right now you’re running as fast as you can in the wrong direction. Tonight is the one shot I’ll give you. After tonight, if you come within a hundred feet of these girls with even the smell of alcohol on your breath, I will destroy you. Look me in the eye,” Dallas leaned down so Rylie had no choice. “Do you see the truth in my eyes? When I say destroy you, I’m not being sarcastic. I’m not talking in vague terms. I’m talking about taking whatever miserable pathetic little piece of your life you have left and crushing it.”

“I’ll win her back,” Rylie grunted, his head starting to droop under the weight of his drunken stupor.

“Just get yourself together,” Dallas said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Don’t test me.”

“Don’t test me,” Rylie mocked again, as he lay his body across the bench and propped his head on his folded arms. “Jackass,” he mumbled as his breathing turned to snores.

Dallas directed his attention to the guard. “Make sure he gets in the car. I want an update the second he’s out of here. If he wakes up and starts making a scene again, tie him to the damn bench and tape his mouth shut.”

“You’re a better man than I am,” the guard chuckled. “I would have knocked his teeth out if you weren’t here to wave me off. The guy’s a drunk. A loud, pushy, stalking jerk. Do you really think he’s going to get his act together?”

“No clue,” Dallas admitted. “I don’t even care one way or another.”

“Then why not just toss him back in his car and give him a few bruises for the road?”

“Because there’s two little girls in the house, and right now they’re fine. They’ve got their mom and they’re little enough to be happy every day no matter what’s going on in their lives. But they’ll get older, and they’ll want their dad. Every kid does. Maybe he can get his life back together in time for that.”

“You’re an optimist,” the guard huffed. “I’d have thought in this line of work you’d have gotten that beaten out of you by now.”

“They keep trying,” Dallas said, as he headed back to the house. He’d make a phone call, do what he could for Rylie. There was no way he deserved Harlan back. Whether or not she’d take him back, he wasn’t sure. It was one thing to try to be a parent, but he’d probably blown it with Harlan. However, he’d still make the call, because it was the right thing to do.

As he made his way back to the front steps, he looked up and saw the bathroom window lit with low flickering candlelight. Harlan stood, half exposing her naked body from behind the lace curtains. The smile lit her face, and he chuckled loud enough he was sure she could hear. Shaking his head and putting a hand over his heart he stared up at her, as though she was slowly killing him.

“Goodnight,” she mouthed down to him with a tiny wave of her delicate fingers.

“Goodnight,” he called back to her, bowing his head as the curtain closed again. Doing the right thing. Following the rules. There were times it paid off, and nights like this, when a woman like Harlan was within reach, doing the right thing was painful. But there would be a replacement for him. Another competent security person would come and take his place, then he’d be the one to run that bath and put her in. There would be no rules that night.