The man's head cracking against the hardwood floor hard enough to make a sound like a baseball bat hitting concrete. The dog didn't bite. Didn't need to. Just stood on the man's chest, teeth an inch from his throat, growl steady and certain. The shorter one reached for something at his belt.
Garrett moved. Not fast, not flashy. Just efficient. The way the army had taught him 30 years ago. Step in, grab the wrist, twist, apply pressure to the elbow joint.
The man went down on one knee gasping. " Hands where I can see them," Garrett said quietly. The man complied. Slowly. On his belt, not a gun, a knife.
Folding blade. Civilian carry, nothing fancy. Garrett removed it, pocketed it, released the man's wrist. " You just made the biggest mistake of your life," the shorter one said. He was breathing hard.
Sweating. But his eyes were steady. Certain. " Wade Kimball doesn't forget. He doesn't forgive.
And he sure as hell doesn't lose." " Wade Kimball," Garrett repeated. " He your boss?" " He's your nightmare. You just don't know it yet."
The tall one was trying to push Sarge off his chest. Not successfully. The dog had found a comfortable spot and was settling in. " Sarge, off." The dog backed away, reluctantly.
Still growling. Still ready. " Get out," Garrett said. " We're not done here," the shorter one said. " Yeah, you are."
Garrett kept his voice level, calm. But he shifted his weight slightly. The posture that said he'd done this before. That said trying him wasn't the smart play. The two men looked at each other.
Some kind of silent communication. Then the tall one stood up slow, one hand on the back of his head where it had hit the floor. They headed for the door. At the threshold, the shorter one turned back. " Five days, Mrs. Brennan.
Then we're back with the sheriff. And you'll wish you dealt with us instead." They left. The black sedan started up, pulled out of the driveway, disappeared down Cottonwood Lane. Garrett closed the door, locked it, turned around.
Evelyn was still crying. Still shaking. Hands over her face now. Small sounds escaping between her fingers. Sarge moved to her.
Put his head on her knee. Gentle. The way he used to do with Kate when she was upset. Evelyn's hand came down. Touched the dog's head.
And something broke. The crying got louder, messier. The kind of crying that came from somewhere deep and hadn't been allowed out in a long time. Garrett stood there. Uncomfortable.
He'd never been good at this part. The emotional part. Kate had been the one who knew what to say when someone was hurting. Garrett just knew how to fix engines. But engines weren't what needed fixing here.
He waited. Because sometimes that was all you could do. Wait until the storm passed. Eventually, 5 minutes, 10 time got strange when someone was breaking down in front of you. Evelyn got quiet.
She wiped her face with her sleeve. Took a shaky breath. " I'm sorry," she whispered. " No need to be sorry, ma'am." " You shouldn't have done that.
Now you're— Her voice broke. Now you're in danger, too." Garrett pulled out a chair from her dining table. Sat down. Sarge stayed next to Evelyn, head still on her knee. "
Ma'am Evelyn, I think it's time you tell me what's going on." She shook her head. " You don't want to know. You don't want to be involved." " Already involved.
Moment I pushed your wheelchair up that ramp, I was involved. Moment Sarge decided you needed protecting, I was involved. And moment those two men threatened you in your own home, I was definitely involved." He leaned forward. " So help me understand.
Who's Wade Kimball? Why do you owe $78,000? And why are men showing up at your house putting hands on you?" Evelyn was quiet for a long time. Outside a car drove past.
A dog barked somewhere down the street. Normal sounds. Normal day. Except nothing about this was normal. Finally, she spoke. "
Harold, my husband, he died 4 months ago. Lung cancer. We knew it was coming. Had time to prepare. Or thought we did."
She paused. Gathered herself. " Two years before that, we had a car accident. T-bone collision. Harold was driving.
Walked away with bruises. I got She gestured at the wheelchair. This. Spinal injury. Doctors said I'd never walk again." "
I'm sorry." " Medical bills were $340,000. Insurance covered 180. We still owed 160." Her hands twisted in her lap. "
Harold took out a second mortgage. 160,000 against the house. It was all we had left. This house. We bought it in 1978.
Raised our whole life here. No children, so it was just us. Just our home." She took another breath. " But the mortgage wasn't enough.
I needed physical therapy, specialized equipment, medications. The costs kept coming. And Harold's cancer, we found it a year after my accident. Stage four. Treatment was expensive.
Experimental drugs weren't covered. We were drowning." " That's when Wade Kimball showed up," Garrett said. " 18 months ago. Harold was desperate.