Perez flips through pages covered in Sullivan's handwriting detailing each fire with disturbing precision. "He's got notes here about using Hartley's known grudge against the Brotherhood as cover, planning to frame him if we got too close."
"Until the investigation did get too close." Mira's voice goes hard. "Then he killed Hartley to eliminate the connection to Cascade Services."
"Premeditated murder." Perez closes the folder and bags it as evidence. "The district attorney is going to have a field day with this case. Sullivan documented his own crimes thoroughly enough to guarantee conviction."
"Your financial analysis broke this case," Perez addresses Mira directly with respect clear in his tone. "Without you tracing the money through shell companies to Cascade and ultimately to Sullivan, we'd still be chasing the Hartley connection and missing the real arsonist."
"Thank you." Mira accepts the acknowledgment with quiet dignity. "My company will pay out the legitimate claims now that fraud has been ruled out. The Brotherhood businesses can rebuild without investigation delays."
Perez nods and turns back to coordinate with the officers processing Sullivan's vehicle. Evidence bags multiply as they catalog timing devices, accelerants, maps, and documentation. Everything needed to prosecute multiple counts of arson, one count of murder, and attempted arson.
Sullivan will spend the rest of his life in prison.
The weight of that knowledge settles over us as we watch the final evidence bags get loaded into patrol vehicles. Weeks of investigation, tension, and fear—all of it converging on this moment in a parking lot under afternoon sun.
Mira's hand finds mine—the one Davis wrapped—fingers careful around the gauze. "It's really over," she says, like she's trying to convince herself.
"It's over," I confirm. "No more fires, no more threats."
We stand together and watch law enforcement work the scene. Afternoon sun climbs higher and burns off the coastal fog.
For the first time in weeks, the constant vigilance can finally ease.
Perez approaches us after his team finishes the initial evidence collection. "We're transporting Sullivan to the station for formal questioning. You two should follow us there. He's going to want to talk, and you've earned the right to hear what he has to say."
Cole offers to take my bike back to Ironside so I can ride with Mira in her rental. Smart call. My hands are wrapped in gauze, and the adrenaline crash is starting to hit. Mira drives while I sit in the passenger seat, watching the familiar streets of Anchor Bay pass by.
The drive to the police station takes less than twenty minutes. Mira's quiet beside me, one hand on the wheel and the other resting near the gear shift where I can reach it if I need to. I can feel tension in her posture starting to ease.
The police station interview room has one-way glass that lets me and Mira observe while staying invisible to the suspect being questioned. Sullivan sits at a metal table with hands still secured, face swollen and discolored from my fists. Detective Perez reads him his rights again and begins the formal interrogation process.
"Tell me about the fires," Perez says with voice neutral and professional. "Start with the storage facility."
Sullivan stares at the table for a long moment before he starts talking, and once he begins, words pour out like he's been holding them back for months.
"Storage facility was first. Brotherhood used them for bike parts, tools, supplies. I offered them better pricing through my supplier connections, but they chose someone else. Said my quality wasn't consistent enough." Bitterness drips from every word. "So I made sure that facility burned. Made sure they lost everything stored there."
Perez takes notes and lets Sullivan talk himself deeper into confession territory. "And the tattoo parlor?"
"Used by Brotherhood members. They got discounts, special treatment. I set that fire to show them what happens when you exclude legitimate businesses from your network." Sullivan's hands clench on the table, then wince—probably broken bones from where I hit him. "They think they're so fucking special with their patches and their loyalty. I wanted them to feel vulnerable."
Confession continues through each fire, each target, each calculated act of revenge. Sullivan details his methodology, his planning, his satisfaction when buildings burned. Details killing Hartley with the same matter-of-fact tone he uses describing accelerant purchases.
Mira's hand tightens on my arm where we stand watching through the glass. Her eyes track between Sullivan's swollenface and my wrapped knuckles. Reading the evidence of violence written across both of us.
"He really believed he was justified," she says quietly when the interview finally ends. "That destroying people's livelihoods and killing someone was appropriate revenge for business decisions."
"Some people can't separate professional rejection from personal attack." I pull her closer, needing the physical contact after listening to Sullivan's confession. "They make everything about themselves, turn every setback into a vendetta. Sullivan couldn't handle losing fairly, so he decided to burn everything down instead."
Perez emerges from the corridor and joins us in the observation area. "Case is airtight. Sullivan confessed to all fires, admitted to murdering Hartley, detailed his plans for future attacks. Combined with the physical evidence from his vehicle and the financial trail your company documented, this is the easiest prosecution I've handled in years."
"How long before trial?" I ask.
"Given the confession and evidence quality, probably looking at a plea deal. Life without parole in exchange for avoiding the death penalty." Perez shakes my hand—carefully, aware of the split knuckles—then Mira's. "You two did good work on this investigation. Financial analysis broke it open, and the arson investigation backed it up with physical evidence. Sullivan's going away for the rest of his life."
Paperwork takes another hour. Mira and I sit in the waiting area while Perez's team processes the final documentation, ensuring every piece of evidence is catalogued and chain of custody is maintained. Standard procedure after a confession this comprehensive, but it still feels like we're waiting for permission to finally breathe.
When Perez finally releases us, the sun has shifted lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the parking lot.
