Yet I couldn’t deny that we were alike in some ways. He’d told me once that I was more like him than like Mason or Joe. While they saw the world in black and white, we saw it in shades of gray. At the moment I thought we might have something else in common too—my thirst for vengeance was growing. I wanted to make J.R. Simmons pay for all the pain he’d caused the people I loved.

I was determined not only to make him pay, but to make him suffer.

And that part scared me more than a little.

Muffy sniffed around outside of the barn, then ducked into a hole by the double doors. I lifted the metal bar that held the doors closed and swung one of the sides open. As I followed my dog into the barn, I remembered how long Mason had spent in there searching for clues. No wonder it had taken him hours. Between the hayloft, the tack area, and the remains of a storage area, there were plenty of hiding places.

Muffy was rustling around in a pile of leftover hay in the back corner, probably ferreting out a mouse. She’d found a few in the house, and there were plenty out here for her to chase.

“Muffy, come back here,” I called out into the darkness. “Leave that poor creature alone.” Too lazy to walk over to the tack area to flip on the overhead light, I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight. Muffy didn’t heed me, so I stepped around the old pickup truck that had likely belonged to Dora’s grandfather to get closer to her. It was then I noticed that the back door facing the woods was standing wide open.

There was no way Mason would have left it that way.

My blood pressure elevated, and my blood whooshed in my ears, making me read every creak and groan as a possible disaster.

“Muffy,” I said in a low, direct tone. “Come.”

Her rustling stopped, and she trotted toward me as I gripped the handle of the Taser in my pocket. She stopped at my feet, then hunkered down and growled at something behind me.

Oh, crappy doodles.

I considered bolting out the back door, even though I had no idea what was behind me. But part of me was tired of running. I was tired of letting people use fear to push me around. And this was my home—my safe place. A deep anger rose up as I prepared to turn around and face whatever monster stood behind me.

So it seemed more than fitting that the man I saw when I spun around was the one who’d helped shape this mess I was in.

I narrowed my eyes and pointed my Taser right at Joe Simmons.

Chapter 13

He held up his hands. “Whoa! Don’t shoot.”

Muffy still stayed at my feet, releasing a low warning. I was following my dog’s instincts on this one. She usually ran to Joe, tail wagging, and covered him in licks. The fact that she was on edge wasn’t lost on me.

I held my Taser up in a defensive stance. “I just caught you trespassing on my property, so give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“I’m here protecting you,” he said in exasperation. He was wearing jeans and his familiar winter coat.

But Muffy was still growling, so I kept my hand up. “That’s the biggest crock of bullshit I’ve heard all day, and I’ve heard quite a bit, so try again. I’m giving you to the count of three to tell me, and then I’m pulling the trigger.”

I could barely see his face. I still had my cell phone clutched in my left hand, but the flashlight was pointing down at the floor, casting long shadows on his face.

“Rose, I’m the damned chief deputy sheriff.”

The ire in his voice only pissed me off more. “Do you have a warrant to be in my barn?”

“No, but—”

“One.”

“I swear to God, Rose. I was walking the back end of your property and I heard noises in your barn, so I came to investigate. Just like when I found you in your shed last June, remember?”

There was a wistfulness in his voice that plucked at one of my heart strings, making me soften. Then I remembered the rest.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice hard and tight. “You started to lock me in there—”

“I thought you were a trespasser!”

“—and then you hid a gun in there to make me look like a murder suspect.”

“I was trying to protect you from Daniel Crocker!”

“You had me arrested last Friday, Joe!” I spat out. “You stood in front of my house and let that evil woman arrest me!”

“I did it to protect you.” His voice broke.

I shook my head violently. “Don’t you dare tell me that!” I shouted, keeping my Taser aimed as I took a step toward him. “Don’t you pull that patronizing bullshit on me!”

Surprise flickered in his eyes, and he took a step backward. “My father … he forced me into it.”

“That’s right. Your daddy told you to jump, and you asked how freaking high. But I guess I’m expendable.”

“No. You’re wrong.” Anger permeated his words. “I was protecting you. I still am.”

“Are you kidding me? When you go to bed at night, does that explanation make it easier for you to sleep? Or do you not even spare a thought for me?”

“Don’t you dare try to trivialize my feelings for you.” His voice shook with his fury.

“I am not a child, Joe Simmons, so don’t you treat me like one. I almost got beat up in the county jail before Carter Hale had me moved to solitary confinement! How is that protecting me?”

He ran a hand over his head, his eyes darting from me to the old truck next to us. “I was scrambling … I hadn’t thought about you dating Mason—”