Walter frowned.
“Then why didn’t he tell you where it was?”
“He did.”
Walter’s anger flared.
“Then why has it been sitting here?”
Hale’s answer stunned him.
“Because we didn’t have the key.”
Walter looked at Margaret’s note.
Michael had trusted his mother with the key.
Not the FBI.
Not Hale.
Margaret had hidden it.
And now Walter understood why.
Trust no badge until you know the man wearing it.
“Where do I bring it?” Walter asked.
Hale gave him an address.
A federal courthouse office in Cincinnati.
Walter ended the call.
Then he looked again at the photograph of Reyes standing beside Pike and Cole.
Three men smiling.
Six years ago.
He slipped it into his pocket.
Some betrayals required explanation.
Others required confrontation.
Walter wanted both.
He never reached Cincinnati.
Two vehicles blocked the road fifteen miles outside Bellford.
One pickup.
One county SUV.
Walter’s friend swore.
“What the hell?”
A man stepped from the SUV.
Officer Cole.
Walter’s chest tightened.
Cole was no longer in uniform.
Jeans.
Brown jacket.
The black ring still on his hand.
Walter’s friend reached for his phone.
Walter stopped him.
“Don’t.”
“Walt—”
“Drive backward.”
Before the friend could shift gears, the pickup behind them moved closer.
Boxed in.
Cole approached.
He tapped on the window.
Walter lowered it two inches.
Cole smiled.
“Busy day.”
Walter stared at him.
“You owe me three thousand dollars.”
Cole laughed.
“That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Among other things.”
Cole’s eyes dropped to Walter’s coat pocket.
“You got something that belongs to Sheriff Pike.”
Walter felt the USB drive against his leg.
“How would you know?”
Cole’s smile widened.
Walter understood.
His phone.
Tracked?
No.
The friend?
No.
Then it hit him.
The original dash camera.
Reyes.
Walter had left his sedan at home, but if Reyes’s system had uploaded location or audio data before—
Cole tapped the glass.
“Get out.”
Walter’s friend whispered, “I’m calling 911.”
Cole heard him.
He drew his weapon.
Everything changed.
Walter raised both hands.
“Easy.”
Cole pointed the gun toward the dashboard.
“Phones down.”
Walter obeyed.
His friend did too.
“Out.”
Walter opened the door.
Cole stepped back.
Walter emerged slowly.
The afternoon wind cut through his coat.
“Where’s Pike?” Walter asked.
Cole’s face changed.
“Not your concern.”
“Nathan Vale alive?”
Cole stared at him.
Walter smiled faintly.
“Federal agents found him.”
The smile disappeared from Cole’s face.
Good.
Walter continued.
“You’re in trouble.”
Cole moved closer.
“You think that camera saved you?”
“It did.”
“No.”
Cole leaned near his ear.
“It made you important.”
Walter looked at him.
Cole whispered, “That’s worse.”
A second man emerged from the pickup.
Daniel Reyes.
Walter felt something inside him break.
Reyes stopped several feet away.
His face was pale.
“Walter.”
Walter said nothing.
Cole grinned.
“Family reunion.”
Walter looked at Reyes.
“So which version is true?”
Reyes shook his head.
“I can explain.”
“Michael said not to trust you.”
Reyes froze.
Cole’s head snapped toward Walter.
That reaction was enough.
Walter knew Cole had not known about the letter.
He had just learned something valuable.
Walter regretted saying it instantly.
Cole pointed the gun at him.
“What letter?”
Reyes stepped forward.
“Eric, stop.”
Cole turned.
“Shut up.”
Walter watched both men.
Something was wrong.
Reyes wasn’t acting like Cole’s partner.
He was frightened of him.
Cole extended his free hand.
“Give me what you found.”
Walter said, “My money first.”
Cole laughed.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Three thousand.”
“You think this is a negotiation?”
Walter shrugged.
“I’m old. We repeat ourselves.”
Reyes almost smiled.
Cole didn’t.
“USB.”
Walter reached slowly toward his pocket.
Cole focused on the movement.
That was what Walter wanted.
Reyes moved.
Fast.
He slammed into Cole’s gun arm.
The weapon fired.
The sound ripped through the road.
Walter dropped.
Cole and Reyes crashed against the SUV.
Walter’s friend dove behind the car.
Another shot.
Then Reyes shouted.
Cole struck him with the pistol.
Reyes fell.
Walter crawled toward the ditch.
Cole grabbed his jacket.
Dragged him backward.
“Where is it?”
Walter twisted.
Cole punched him once.
Pain exploded along Walter’s cheek.
His vision flashed white.
Then another voice thundered from behind them.
“FEDERAL AGENTS! DROP THE WEAPON!”
Vehicles erupted from both directions.
Unmarked SUVs.
Hale.
Mercer.
Agents with rifles.
Cole froze.
Reyes lay bleeding on the pavement.
Walter looked at him.
Not from a gunshot.
A split scalp.
Alive.
Cole’s weapon dropped.
He raised his hands.
For the first time, Walter saw fear on Officer Eric Cole’s face.
It was not satisfying.
Not yet.
Pike was arrested that night at a private airfield near the Indiana border.
He had $480,000 in cash.
Two fake passports.
A satellite phone.
And Walter’s three thousand dollars.
The bills were still wrapped with the bank band.
Walter identified them from the withdrawal slip number written on the wrapper.
That small detail became strangely important to him.
Of all the millions involved, of all the crimes, of all the corruption, his three thousand dollars still existed.
It had not vanished.
It had been carried upward.
From Cole to Pike.
Exactly as investigators suspected.
The USB drive was even bigger.
It contained six years of records Michael had secretly copied.
Bank transfers.
Audio recordings.