The rain washed the blood and dirt into the earth. The flashing red and blue lights of backup federal units, summoned by Reyes, finally began to cut through the trees in the distance.
Naomi walked over to where Deputy Ryan was kneeling in the mud, sobbing, his pristine uniform ruined. She looked down at him, her expression completely unreadable.
“I told you,” she said softly, the words carrying perfectly over the sound of the rain. “You should have cleared out your desk.”
By sunrise, Oakhaven was a different town. The sleepy, picturesque facade had been violently ripped away. The diner was filled not with locals, but with federal agents in tactical gear. Black SUVs lined the streets.
Naomi stood by her Tahoe on Highway 27, leaning against the hood, a fresh cup of terrible diner coffee in her hand. The morning air was crisp and clean, the storm having washed the humidity away.
Agent Vance walked up, handing her a tablet. “Daniels is singing like a bird in medical. Giving up every cartel contact he has in exchange for federal protection. Ryan is in holding, crying for a lawyer. The cargo was sixty mil in pure fentanyl. We broke their spine today, boss.”
“Good work, Vance. Get the team packed up. We’re moving back to the city by noon.”
Naomi took a sip of her coffee and looked down the long, empty stretch of asphalt. The highway was quiet again. No arrogant deputies, no ghosts slipping through the cracks. Just the road ahead. She tossed the empty coffee cup into a nearby bin, opened the door of her Tahoe, and started the engine.
The federal boss of Oakhaven County had finished her business. She pulled onto the highway, leaving the town behind in a cloud of dust, the badge on her dashboard catching the first light of the morning sun.