That’s what you call an incident. Now hold on. I haven’t heard Trent’s side of the story yet. Could have been an argument that got out of hand. These things happen. Harry stood slowly settling Lydia in the chair. He was 6’2 and had the kind of build that came from hauling steelpipe in Wyoming winters. Timonss took a half step back.

These things happen. Harry repeated. You think a man kicking his pregnant wife is just something that happens? Look, Kane, I know you’re upset, but where is he? Who? Trent, where’s the piece of garbage who did this? Timon shrugged. Haven’t been able to locate him yet. Probably sleeping it off somewhere. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Get his version of events.

His version. Harry moved closer. You want to hear his version of why he kicked a pregnant woman in the stomach? That’s how investigations work. We talked to both parties, get statements. The only statement you need is from a six-year-old girl who watched her father try to kill her mother and baby brother. Harry’s voice carried down the empty hallway.

But you’re not interested in that statement. Are you Tims? Because Trent’s one of your drinking buddies. Timonss’s face flushed red. You better watch a mouth, Cain. I don’t have to take that kind of talk from you. You’re right. Harry said calmly. You don’t because you can get in your patrol car, drive back to whatever hole you crawled out of, and pretend this conversation never happened.

But if I find out you’ve been helping Trent cover this up, we’re going to have a different kind of conversation. Timmons opened his mouth to respond, then seem to think better of it. He turned and walked away, his boots squeaking on the polished floor. Harry watched him go, memorizing the set of his shoulders and the way he favored his left leg.

information was ammunition, and Harry had a feeling he’d need plenty of both before this was over a few minutes after Timmons left. Voices drifted down the hallway from the nurse’s station. Harry moved closer, keeping one eye on Lydia. “Never seen injuries like that from a fall,” one nurse was saying. Looked like she got kicked by a horse.

Third time this year, another replied, “Remember that Peterson girl? Same pattern of bruising.” And the Freeman woman, I heard she fell down the stairs, too. All the same guy, Trent Huxley. He’s got connections, though. Nothing ever sticks. Harry filed the information away. So, this wasn’t Trent’s first time.

That made it worse, but it also made it easier. Pattern of behavior meant there would be other victims, other witnesses, other people with scores to settle. The surgery took 4 hours. Dr. Martinez emerged just after sunrise, still in scrubs, but with exhaustion weighing down her shoulders. How are they? Harry asked standing immediately. Your daughter is stable.

She lost a lot of blood, but she’s young and strong. She’ll recover fully with time. And the baby, a boy, born premature at 34 weeks, but his vitals are good. He’ll need to stay in NICU for a while, but I’m cautiously optimistic. Harry felt something tight in his chest finally loosen. Can I see her? She’s asking for you.

Cassidy looked small and pale against the white hospital sheets. Machines beeped softly around her bed, monitoring heartbeat and oxygen levels. Her eyes open when Harry entered the room. Lydia’s hand held firmly in his. Dad. Her voice was barely above a whisper. Right here, sweetheart. Harry pulled a chair close to the bed. How do you feel? Like I got hit by a truck.

She managed a weak smile. The baby, he’s fighting. Doctor says he’s got a good chance. Cassidy closed her eyes for a moment, tears leaking from the corners. I’m sorry, Dad. I should have listened to you about Trent. I should have seen what he was. This isn’t your fault, Harry said firmly. None of it. I let him around Lydia. I let him.

Her voice broke. Mommy. Lydia climbed onto the chair to get closer to the bed. Don’t cry. Papa says you’re going to be okay. Cassidy reached out with shaking fingers to touch her daughter’s face. I am, baby. Mommy’s going to be just fine. They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the steady beep of the monitors.

Finally, Cassidy looked at Harry with eyes that had aged a decade overnight. I want him gone, she said quietly. Not scared, not sorry. Gone. Harry studied his daughter’s face. The young woman who’d married Trent three years ago had believed in second chances and the power of love to change people. That woman was gone, replaced by someone harder, someone who understood that some lines couldn’t be uncrossed.

“You won’t have to ask me twice,” Harry said. Something passed between them in that moment, an understanding that went beyond words. Harry had spent his adult life in places where problems got solved with direct action rather than paperwork and committees. He’d pulled men out of collapse mine shafts, fought fires on oil rigs, and once talked a suicidal rough neck down from a Derek platform.

He understood how to handle crisis. This was just another kind of crisis that a nurse appeared in the doorway. Visiting hours are almost over. The patient needs rest. Harry stood and leaned down to kiss Cassid’s forehead. Get some sleep. I’ll take care of Lydia and I’ll take care of everything else. Dad.

Cassidy caught his hand. Be careful. He’s not just some angry drunk. He’s got friends, connections, people who help him. I know, Harry said. So do I. He picked up Lydia and walked out of the hospital room with a measured pace of a man who’d made a decision. In the elevator, Lydia looked up at him with serious brown eyes that reminded him of Cassidy at that age.

Papa, what did mommy mean when she said she wants daddy gone? Harry considered his words carefully. Sometimes people do things so bad that they can’t be around the family anymore. Your daddy hurt your mommy and the baby, so he can’t live with you anymore. Good, Lydia said with six-year-old certainty. I don’t want him to hurt mommy again. He won’t. Harry promised.

I’m going to make sure of that. The Montana Sunrise painted the hospital parking lot in shades of gold and orange as Harry strapped Lydia into his truck. He had phone calls to make, people to see, and plans to set in motion. But first, he needed to get Lydia somewhere safe and figure out exactly how deep Trent Huxley’s connections ran because Harry Kane didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep, and he just promised his granddaughter that her father would never hurt her mother again.

Harry dropped Lydia off at his neighbor’s house 3 hours after leaving the hospital. Martha Kellerman was 72, widowed, and had raised six children of her own. She took one look at Harry’s face and asked no questions, just wrapped Lydia in a fierce hug, and promised to spoil her with pancakes and cartoons until he got back.

“Take all the time you need,” Martha said quietly, her weathered hands gentle on Lydia’s shoulders. “And Harry, whatever you’re planning, be smart about it.” Harry’s first stop was Pike’s Auto Repair, a grease stained garage on the outskirts of town, where honest work got done by men who understood the value of keeping their mouths shut.

Delmare Pike was under the hood of a rusted Ford when Harry walked in. His wiry frame bent over the engine like a man performing surgery. Delmare. Delmare straightened, wiping his hands on a rag that had seen better decades. He was 53. All senu and scars with pale blue eyes that missed nothing. Harry heard about Cassidy on the scanner. How is she? She’ll live.

Baby, too. Harry leaned against the workbench, but Trent Huxley put them both in the hospital. Delmar’s expression didn’t change, but something dangerous flickered behind his eyes. That so beat her so bad she nearly bled out. Deputy Timonss thinks it was just a domestic dispute that got out of hand. Timonss is a bot man.

Delmare said flatly. Has been for years. Trent’s got him on a leash. Harry had been counting on Delmare having useful information. The mechanic serviced half the vehicles in the county and had a memory like a steel trap when it came to other people’s business. “Tell me about Trent’s operation,” Harry said. Delmare glanced toward the garage entrance, then moved to close the bay door.

When they were alone, he pulled two beers from a mini fridge and handed one to Harry. Runs an illegal bedding ring out of his lake cabin. Takes action on everything from college football to horse racing. Charges 20% juice on loans. Breaks legs when people don’t pay up. His main muscle is Rafe Gunner. Big son of a with no conscience and a short fuse.

Who’s he paying off besides Tims? City Councilman Dave Garrett takes a cut to keep the gaming ordinances loose. Judge Patricia Moss gets campaign contributions every election cycle. Sheriff’s Department looks the other way as long as the violence stays quiet. Harry nodded. Corruption was like rust once it started. It spread until the whole structure was compromised.

But that also made it predictable. Corrupt men were always vulnerable because they had to protect too many secrets. “You know all this, but you never did anything about it,” Harry observed. Delmare’s face hardened. “My sister Jenny was driving home from her night shift 2 years ago. Trent was coming back from the casino, drunk off his ass, and rammed her car headon.

She lived but barely. Spinal cord damage. Uses a wheelchair now. What happened to Trent?” Timonss rode it up as an accident. said Jenny must have swerved into oncoming traffic. Trent got a slap on the wrist for driving under the influence. Delmare took a long pull from his beer. Been waiting for the right time to settle that score.

Consider this the right time, Harry said. You in? Hell yes, I’m in. What do you need? Information mostly vehicle sabotage when the time comes. You know trucks better than anyone in three counties. I can make a truck disappear or break down exactly when you need it to. Delmare’s smile was thin and cold…. To Be Cntinue Ending Blow

Click Here To Read Ending : My 6-year-old granddaughter called me at midnight, terrified. What she said made me drop everything.