"You see, Sergeant Anita Emerson had a very sick mother," Noah continued. "The last thing Anita said before she died was that she didn't have a choice. Her mother needed help. I figure she had an arrangement with Luther. She made physical evidence vanish. She stalled cold cases. She made witness statements disappear. She came up with plausible explanations that looked legitimate on the surface. All of her actions were paid for through shell companies and medical funding. For the longest time I couldn't connect Luther to her directly. It made sense that she would need money for a loved one's medical costs. But I couldn't prove it until now.”
Savannah was staring at the paper. The rain streaked across the windshield in sheets.
"Then you told me Cora was getting worse. You were running out of money. The experimental treatments were expensive and insurance wouldn't cover them. And then suddenly someone comes along and offers a helping hand." He watched her jaw tighten. "Explains why I got that suspension a while back."
Savannah didn't say anything. Her hands were on the steering wheel. Not gripping it. Just resting there. The way someone's hands rest when they've stopped trying to control the situation and are just waiting for it to pass.
"I thought you were my friend," Noah said. "I really thought you were different. I didn't think you would cross that line. But he got to you, didn't he? Just like he got to my father. Just like he gets to everyone in this damn town." He paused. "Even my son."
She let out a long exhale. It fogged the windshield slightly. The rain showed no sign of letting up. The liquor store sign flickered once and held.
"Well?" Noah said. "Aren't you going to say something?"
"Get out of my car, Noah."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"Just like my father. Even when you're faced with the truth you refuse to own up to it."
Noah reached over and took the paperwork back. He folded it and put it in his jacket pocket.
"I'm sorry," Savannah said.
Her voice was quiet. Not defensive. Not angry. Just flat. It was the sound of a person who has done something they couldn’t undo and had stopped pretending otherwise.
Noah nodded. He didn't take his eyes off her.
"Yeah. So am I. For trusting you.”
He opened the door and stepped out into the rain. It hit him immediately, cold and hard, soaking through his jacket and his shirt and running down his face. He closed the door and walked across the lot without looking back. The Bronco was parked nearby. By the time he reached it he was drenched.
He got in. Started the engine. Turned the wipers on.
Through the rain he could see Savannah's car still sitting in the liquor store lot. She hadn't moved. The taillights weren't on. The engine wasn't running. She was just sitting there.
Noah pulled out and drove home through the storm.
The mountains were invisible behind the rain. The road was a black ribbon cut through moving water. Noah drove slowly. No radio. No phone. Just the wipers and the engine and the thought he couldn't shake.
Luther Ashford didn't need to threaten anyone. He just found the thing you loved most and took care of it.
Emerson's mother.
Savannah's partner.
Hugh's reputation.
26
The bar was half empty on a Wednesday night.
Peak 46 sat on a side street off Main, the kind of place that tourists walked past and locals walked into. Dark wood. Low ceilings. A television above the bar showing a hockey game nobody was watching. The bartender was a woman in her twenties who knew when to pour and when to leave you alone.
Noah was on his second bourbon. Callie was beside him with a glass of red wine she hadn't touched in ten minutes. McKenzie was across from them in the booth, working through a whiskey like it owed him money.
None of them were in uniform. None of them were on duty. Two of them weren't coming back anytime soon.
