Met Hernandez had walked into his fair share of police departments. The Denver PD office, where Captain had his office, was a new experience altogether. Of course, it might have been the sheer number of people walking along with Met. Usually he was alone for what might be considered a walk of shame. This time he was accompanied by his brothers Laredo, Darren, and Cisco, and Daphne’s hand was tucked securely into the crook of his arm. Their private investigator, Nick Rich, was standing near the rear of the group trying his best to be unobtrusive. It was a merry band of people who really only had one thing on their minds.

Justice.

“Can I help you?”

Met leaned forward so that he could speak into the little silver disc with the slits that had been placed in a slab of what he could only assume was bulletproof glass. “Yes ma’am, you can. We are here to see Captain Paul Weatherby. We don’t have an appointment”—he glanced down at Daphne—“but if you’ll just tell him that Daphne Evans is here to see him, I’m sure he’d love to chat with her.”

“All right, sir.” The woman started to get up.

Met spoke again. He’d forgotten one detail. “And if you could let Officer Keene know that Ms. Evans is here as well, that would be fantastic.”

“I will certainly do that.” The young clerk behind the counter was hightailing it down the wide gray carpeted hallway that likely led to another area of the police station containing offices for administrative and law enforcement personnel.

“This place is ridiculous.” Darren leaned back and stared up at the pristine white vaulted ceiling. “It looks like a movie set.”

It did look a bit like a movie set if you were going for one of those superhero halls of justice or something else equally overwhelming. The floor was white tile, and it echoed because there was nothing decorating the unrelenting walls. There were a few potted trees here and there. They were fake. Met felt compelled to rub his fingers through the leaves to find that out for sure. But other than the plants and a few interview rooms located opposite the bank of clerk counters, the only thing in the room was the collection of black plastic chairs.

“You would think,” Laredo said irritably, “that with all of the money that they actually spent on this place, they could try to come up with a seating solution that did not feel like you were trying to sit on a slab of granite.”

“Oh, poor Laredo!” Darren said mockingly. “Does he need a whittle pad for his whittle bottom?”

There was a round of cackling from the brothers, but it was Cisco who shushed them. “You’re on camera, you morons. How about we make an attempt to pretend that we’re not a bunch of hoodlums.”

“I happen to like being a hoodlum,” Met drawled. He winked at Cisco. “You’ve always been so damn serious. I can never believe you’re the one closest to me in age. I think your mental age is older than Cal’s.”

“And yours is younger than Jaeger,” Cisco retorted. “So, come on, now. How about we all play nice.”

“Well. Well. Well!”

A booming voice echoed through the huge airy space as Paul Weatherby strode down the narrow hallway in his cowboy boots and policeman’s uniform. He held his arms out wide. But he was more subdued than Met had seen him on previous occasions. This was probably because not only was he at work, he was also being followed very closely by Officer Keene. Somehow, having a fellow policeman observe him always made Paul put on his best face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Weatherby’s smile was so sleazy that Met wanted to knock it off his face. He fisted his hands at his sides, but Cisco quickly stepped between Met and Paul.

“Captain Weatherby,” Cisco said crisply. “We’re sorry to bother you at work, but we wanted to speak with you directly about a case that you seem to have gotten involved in that also involves us in an indirect manner.”

“How is that?” Weatherby was now showing teeth, but he was most definitely not smiling. Not really.

Cisco continued to handle the talking. They were trying to keep Nick Rich out of it as much as possible. He didn’t want to tip his hand when there were still too many things going on in Denver that involved both the Hernandez brothers and the Weatherbys of the Flying W.

“As it happens,” Cisco began. “We’ve become aware that a man named Justin Sorenson has approached you with photographs of Met Hernandez and this young lady, Daphne Evans. Mr. Sorenson has been harassing Ms. Evans for the last year.” Cisco gestured to Officer Keene. “Your officer has been good enough to come and speak with you because he’s been present when most of these reports were taken. And indeed he was present this last time when Mr. Sorenson’s harassment extended to my brother Met. Mr. Sorenson took unflattering photographs”—Cisco held up a hand—“and while we realize that Mr. Sorenson has the right to take whatever photographs he wants to, this does not extend to taking personal photographs of my brother during intercourse or other very private activities.”

Weatherby didn’t speak for a long time. He glanced over his shoulder at Officer Keene. It was obvious that he was trying to figure out what Keene was going to say or do that would then put pressure on Weatherby.

Keene was a good man. That much was obvious. He was staring at his captain as though he were equal parts confused and disgusted. Finally, he cleared his throat. “If you have had conversations with this individual, then it would be nice to know if he’s said anything that might connect him with these constant and long-term harassment and stalking attacks on Ms. Evans.”

“So, this is about Ms. Evans,” Captain Weatherby said. Did he honestly need clarification of that? “And it has nothing to do with the fact that Mr. Sorenson was accused of taking unflattering photographs of Met Hernandez at Cody’s Bar and Grill?

Met was going to kill him. The guy was such an arrogant ass! But beside him, Daphne put her hand on his arm and smiled so sweetly at Paul Weatherby that Met was sure the guy was going to get a toothache just from looking at her.

“Captain Weatherby, it’s odd that you should talk about those photographs that Mr. Sorenson took of Met. See, he might have intended for those to be negative. I don’t know. I haven’t spoken with him about it, although it sounds like you have.” She let that statement hang for just a moment before continuing her sweet little commentary. “But it didn’t work out that way because those photographs were just a setup for the interviews in Denver Magazine and The Front Range Wayfarer that came out just a few days later that same week. See, those articles wouldn’t have packed nearly the punch they did as a positive move for the Hernandez family if that article in the Tattler hadn’t made everyone worried for Met’s health.”

“Excuse me?” Weatherby was shifting from foot to foot looking uncomfortable. “You’re saying those photos were a good thing?”

“Well, yes.” She shrugged. “But that’s not really the issue. Is it? This is about Justin Sorenson stalking me. I want very much for this to stop. The man is even trying to blackmail my boss into rehiring him to our company.” Daphne kept going. She needed Weatherby to see reason. “So, by putting your information with that of Officer Keene’s, you might stand a chance of breaking this case wide open. And since it’s been ongoing for almost a year, that would be such a huge help to me.”

Met could see the wheels turning in the man’s head. Oh, he certainly liked the idea of being the hero. But was he honestly going to admit that he’d been the one to tell Paul to sell those photos in the first place?

“I suppose I could have a look at Officer Keene’s information,” Weatherby finally agreed.

Keene’s nostrils flared. It was obvious that he was not appreciative of how this was going. “Sir, the man needs to be arrested. The crime lab has already established that the cardboard boxes full of gasoline are the same as they were in previous cases. There was a photograph on the box left on Ms. Evans’s porch this last time. It is photographically similar to the photos in the Tattler. If you can place Sorenson as the photographer without a doubt, then we can get a warrant for his arrest. This is all we need. Your confirmation that Sorenson was indeed the man who photographed the pictures for the Tattler of Mr. Hernandez and Ms. Evans.”

Captain Paul Weatherby sighed heavily. It was easy to see that he didn’t like this at all. He was in a position where he had to give up information without much of a return. It was helping the Hernandez family and not hurting them as he had initially hoped. And there was still the idea that Weatherby had promised Sorenson a favor. What would Paul Weatherby have promised, and would he have to hold up his end of the bargain?

“Thank you, sir,” Officer Keene said before his gaze slid right back to Met and Daphne. “We’ll issue the warrant right now.”

“Good.” Daphne clapped her hands together. “Thank you, Captain! Thank you so much!”

Weatherby’s lips were tight, and he looked like he’d eaten something sour. “Of course. I’m just a public servant, you know?”

Met and his brothers did not comment. They’d managed to turn this neatly and get what they needed from Weatherby. It would remain to be seen if there was a cost to what had happened today. But for now, it was enough to know that Daphne’s stalker would not be bothering her again for a very long time.

“Oh!” Daphne pulled her phone from her purse. “I need to contact Mr. Abernathy and tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about rehiring Justin. That should change things a little bit.”

Met could not resist giving Paul Weatherby a jaunty wave as he and his family made their way back out of the police station and onto the street. It was a beautiful afternoon. It looked as though it would be an even more beautiful evening. There might even be time to take a walk. It would be the kind of walk that did not require a set of stairs or any other kind of accessory. Just a stroll through the park would be a heavenly way to end the night.

Of course, that was before they got back to the parking lot where they’d left their vehicles and spotted Jesse’s truck sitting there in the lot. Jesse was leaning against the fender with her arms folded and a scowl on her face.

“What’s gotten up your butt?” This came from Darren. He was really quite astute and even better at expressing himself. “You look like you’ve gotten bit by a big horse fly.”

Jesse pressed her lips into a tight line. She looked at the brothers, and then she sighed. “I just came to tell you that your father had a heart attack a little while ago. He’s in the hospital a few miles away. Your mother would very much appreciate it if you boys would go and help her take care of some things.”

It took the Hernandez brothers a good minute or two to process what their adopted sister was saying. Joe Hernandez had a heart attack? How was that possible? Beside him, Met felt Daphne grabbing tightly to his arm as she struggled to keep her composure. In his mind, he could not stop thinking that it was impossible for his father to have a heart attack because the man had no heart.

“Is he stabilized?” It was Daphne who had the wherewithal to ask intelligent questions. The brothers were all still speechless.

Jesse gave a tight nod. “He’s stabilized, but they’re talking surgery and stints and other crap I don’t really know anything about.”

“Did you call Cal?” Met asked her carefully. He was all too aware of the implications they’d come up with regarding Cal just the other night when Met had been the one in the hospital. “Is he coming?”

“He’ll be here in an hour,” Jesse said tightly. “He had to find someone to take over at the ranch while he was gone.”

“The ranch,” Met murmured. “Does anyone know if Dad’s been having health issues?”

“Does it matter right now?” Jesse asked impatiently. “Go to the hospital. Talk to your mother.”

“What are you doing?” Met asked her suddenly. It occurred to him that she was not talking about joining them there to support the family. It was like something had happened. “Are you going back to the hospital?”

“No.” Jesse turned toward the driver’s door of her truck. It was not an HLC branded company vehicle. Had she always driven her own vehicle, and why had Met never really noticed? “I’m not part of your family. Not really. I’m a Collins. And right now, I don’t want to be a Collins in a room full of the Hernandez family.”

Jesse got in her truck and started the engine. Met and his brothers had to back off quickly or be run over as she left the parking lot in a squeal of tires. Met turned to Darren. Were they really going to let her just drive off like that?

Then Daphne touched his arm. “Let her go,” Daphne advised. “You really have to let her go for now. You’ve got more important things to think about right now, and the rest of that will wait.”

“She’s right.” This came from the private investigator. He slapped Cisco on the shoulder with a promise to call him soon. “I’ll be in touch!” Then Nick Rich waved over his shoulder and was gone before they could blink.

Met turned to his brothers. “I can’t even imagine Dad in the hospital.”

“Well, imagine it fast,” Laredo muttered. “Because this is probably going to be a hell of an uncomfortable situation we’re walking into.”

“What was up with Jesse?” Darren asked, speaking the words they were all thinking.

Daphne linked her arm with Met’s and started dragging him toward his truck. “That doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that matters is getting to the hospital to be with your mother. All right?” She gave Met a squeeze and then kissed his shoulder. “I know you’re all hospital avoidant. I get that. But right now, it isn’t about you. I promise.”

Laredo snorted. Then he pointed at Daphne and gave her a nod. “This one is a keeper. That’s for sure.”

“Agreed,” Cisco murmured.

Darren put his hand out to Daphne. “Welcome to the family, Daphne Evans. It’ll be quite a ride. That I can promise you.”

Met tugged her away from his womanizing brother and started helping her into the passenger seat of his truck. “It’s nothing she can’t handle,” he told his brothers. Then he winked up at the woman who meant everything to him. “I know she can handle it all.”