"But if I hadn't called the Bureau?—"
"Then he'd still be out there, and more women would die." I hold her gaze. "This is what doing the right thing costs sometimes. I knew that going in."
She studies my face, searching for hesitation. Gives a single sharp nod.
"What do we do now?"
"I turn in my badge. We meet Calder. We finish this."
Finn and Cara are up when we emerge from the cabin, systems running, perimeter checked. Cara glances up from her laptop.
"Calder wants to meet. She says it's urgent."
"How soon?"
"She's en route. She should be here shortly."
There's not enough time to handle the suspension first. I holster my weapon—still mine for a few more hours—and settle in to wait.
Calder arrives driving hard, her SUV throwing up slush. She's alone, but body armor bulges under her jacket and her eyes sweep the perimeter before she exits. She knows she's a target now.
She climbs out and follows us into the cabin, pulling up files on her tablet as she walks.
"DOJ's moving. Public Corruption Unit has Emma's documentation, Jackie Nielsen's testimony, the contractor's statement. Solid evidence."
"But?" I hear the qualifier coming.
"But it's all historical. Past crimes. What they need is proof of active criminal conspiracy happening right now. Something that shows Haywood's still operating, still dangerous."
"The charges he filed against me this morning aren't enough?"
"Retaliation through official channels. Dirty, but not criminal conspiracy." Calder pulls up more files. "They need direct evidence of him ordering violence, eliminating witnesses—something that proves ongoing criminal activity."
"So we wait for him to try killing one of us," Finn says. "Then we document it."
"That's the reality." Calder's tone goes flat. "Without active conspiracy, the case takes months. Haywood has time to destroy evidence and disappear. But if we can prove he's eliminating witnesses right now?—"
"DOJ acts immediately," I finish.
My phone rings. The number is unknown.
I answer, putting it on speaker. "Wells."
"Deputy." It's a voice I don't recognize—male, controlled. "You have files that don't belong to you. My client would like them back."
Client, not employer. Careful word choice from someone used to avoiding direct connection. Professional, military cadence. Contractor, not local muscle.
I catch Calder's eye. She's already pulling out her phone.
"Tell your client to come get them himself."
"He prefers to delegate." Background noise filters through—traffic, city sounds. Anchorage, probably. Close. "Here's the offer. You return all copies of the files. You convince the nurse to recant her statement. You make this disappear."
"And if we don't?"
"Then my client handles it personally. You don't want that."
The line goes dead.
