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if they’d been bait.
    Or something.
    “What’s the date?” she asked.
    The officers seemed surprised, but Tinsley checked his watch. “The fourteenth.”
    “It’s still tomorrow, ” Harlan verified. “And I’m pretty sure the shooter was supposed to make that threat come true.”
    Yes. And he nearly had. She’d lost count of how many shots he’d fired, but any one of them could have hit Harlan and her.
    “He wasn’t an expert shot,” Harlan continued. “And it was personal.”
    Caitlyn couldn’t argue with either of those points. “That leads us back to Farris.”
    She was about to ask for a phone so she could make some calls to find out if Farris was indeed still in the institution, but she stopped when she spotted the truck just ahead. Not speeding away. Not even on the interstate.
    But rather at a standstill in the emergency lane.
    “That’s it,” Harlan told the officers.
    Tinsley turned on the lights and siren, called for backup and eased to a stop behind the truck. Caitlyn tried to look inside the vehicle, but Harlan didn’t give her a chance. He caught the back of her neck and pushed her down on the seat.
    “Stay put,” Harlan insisted.
    Tinsley looked back at Harlan as if he might tell him the same thing, but he didn’t stop Harlan from getting out with him and his partner. Both cops drew their weapons, and they stayed behind the cover of their doors while they kept their attention fastened on the truck.
    Caitlyn lifted her head just a little so she could look, too, but the back window on the truck had a heavy tint, and she couldn’t see inside the truck cab.
    Tinsley called out for the driver to exit the vehicle. No response, though. Ditto for his second attempt.
    The seconds dragged by, and even though Caitlyn tried to keep her heartbeat and breathing steady, she failed big-time. She’d known she was in danger before she even went to Harlan’s place, but she hadn’t considered that she could be bringing the danger to him.
    He could be killed.
    Right here, if the gunman started shooting.
    Even though there was bad blood between them, the last thing she wanted was him to be hurt. Or involved in this. But then she rethought that, too.
    Harlan was involved.
    One of the threats had even mentioned what he’d said to her that night they’d had sex. So maybe the person behind all of this had written that knowing it would make her suspect Harlan. Knowing that she would go running to him.
    If so, this was all her fault.
    Her breath stalled again when the cops began to inch toward the truck door, and Harlan stayed right with them despite the fact that he wasn’t armed. Each step they took put her heart higher in her throat, but she could only sit there, watch and pray that this was all about to end. If they had the shooter, then they would know who was behind this.
    And why.
    Tinsley approached the driver’s side. His partner, the other. But Harlan moved even closer to Tinsley when the officer peered into the window. He said something to Harlan. Something she couldn’t hear, but Caitlyn didn’t need to hear the words to see the frustration in Tinsley’s body language.
    It was Harlan who threw open the driver’s door, and again she didn’t need to hear what he said to know he was cursing a blue streak. That was the last straw.
    Nothing could have held Caitlyn back at that point.
    She bolted from the cruiser to see what had caused the profanity and frustration. And she soon saw.
    The truck was empty.
    She looked back to the interstate, hoping she’d catch a glimpse of the shooter—maybe on foot, maybe driving away in another vehicle. It was possible he was doing just that, but if so, he was nowhere in sight.
    “He left something,” Harlan said.
    Caitlyn followed his gaze and soon saw what had captured Harlan’s attention. A folded piece of paper was on the steering wheel.
    “I want it processed for prints.” But Harlan didn’t touch it. No doubt because he didn’t want to disturb