“Is this man familiar to you?” Sheriff Gamble asked, handing Quinn several magnified images taken from the field cams.

She had already identified Naomi. Her sister had done nothing to hide her face. The only pictures from the camera where there wasn’t a good shot of the teen’s features were the ones in which she was clearly doing a victory dance, arms swinging, body twirling.

Madness, pure madness.

“Quinn?” Barrett prompted, his hand wrapping around the top of her shoulder. “Do you have any idea who he is?”

“No,” she answered after staring at each picture for several seconds. “My sister acquires boys…sometimes men…who can get things done for her. The last one was a hacker. She went after all of my accounts, drained my savings…”

She pushed the photos onto Gamble’s desk then stared at the floor.

“I don’t know who she’s sleeping with now. If you find that out, he’ll probably be the man in the picture.”

Gamble cleared his throat. “Let me get this straight, I’m looking for a male, possibly an adult, sleeping with your sixteen-year-old sister?”

“Yes,” she said, then added a small correction. “Half-sister. We don’t have the same dad.”

Even obliquely mentioning how Naomi used her body to get men to do her dirty work made Quinn feel permanently stained, like she should have been able to save her little sister from what the teenager had become.

“Well, if they stopped for gas or anything else in Montana,” Gamble assured Quinn, “there will be more pictures of both of them. We’ll find out who he is. And, if he is an adult, I will personally bury him.”

Barrett picked up the picture of Naomi dancing, stared hard for a few seconds then slammed it down. He nodded at the sheriff and Chief Finley in turn.

“So this is an active arson investigation, yeah?”

Both men nodded.

“Meaning Jester’s property is going to be off limits for a few days.”

“Well…the burn site—”

“No, everything,” Barrett said, interrupting Finley. He pulled his phone from his pocket, navigated through his call history and pulled up the estate attorney’s number. “I want Charles Cross and Judge Harrison to know that Miss Whitaker may not legally remain on the property for the next few days because that’s your call. The suspects are at large, so it’s not safe for Quinn, plus you’ve got an investigation going.”

“Put your phone away,” Gamble said, picking up his landline and punching in a number.

A few rings later, someone answered, the faint sounds of the person distinctively feminine.

“Sherri Kay, this is Jude Gamble. Put your daddy on the phone, please.”

A minute later, the sheriff’s face stiffened. “Evening, your honor, hope I wasn’t interrupting dinner. No? Good. Don’t know if you heard on the scanner, there was a fire up at Jester Carey’s place tonight.”

Gamble paused, his head bobbing in silent agreement.

“Definitely arson,” he said when the judge finished speaking. “Now, I need to shut that place down, but I’ve been hearing old Jester put something weird in the will…Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.”

A few more seconds of silence transpired, a slow smile spreading across Gamble’s face.

“Great, that’s what I was hoping for. Should I call Cross? Right, better he hears it from you. Thank you.”

His smile ballooning into a grin, he put the phone down.

“Miss Whitaker, Judge Harrison says he’s temporarily suspending the conditions of the will while I do my investigation. I’ll need to talk to you tomorrow, but right now, I want you to get some rest.”

Pulling a card index over from the side of his desk, he began to finger through it. “County has a victim’s services—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Barrett said, his grip on Quinn’s shoulder gently flexing. “I’ll make sure she has everything she needs. Thank you for squaring things with the judge.”

“No need to thank me,” Gamble answered. “Just doing what Jester would want me to.”

Barrett’s hand slid down to wrap around Quinn’s. “Come on, baby. Let me get you home.”