“And what exactly do you think is happening out there?”
Burke held his gaze.
“I think something is moving through this county that doesn’t belong here. And I think if we wait until it’s obvious, it’s already too late.”
A heavy quiet stretched across the room.
Harlan leaned back in his chair, studying him.
“You understand what you’re asking me to do.”
“I do.”
“You’re asking me to put my name on a warrant that opens the door to Wade Hollis’s property.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
Burke didn’t hesitate. “Then I answer for it.”
A long beat.
“And if you’re right?”
Burke didn’t blink.
“Then we stop it before it gets buried deep enough that nobody can touch it.”
“You’re asking me to take a swing at the most powerful man in this county, Sheriff. You better not miss.”
Harlan held his gaze another second—then reached for the pen.
Hollis Estate — Late Afternoon
The guard shack door opened before Burke’s cruiser came to a full stop.
Troy stepped out.
Ball cap low. Work jacket. Same as always.
He looked at Burke, then at the line of cruisers behind him.
“Sheriff,” Troy said. “I’m not supposed to let anyone through without Mr. Hollis being aware.”
Burke stepped out, warrant already in his hand. “That’s fine,” he said. “Make him aware. We’re coming in.”
Troy held his eyes.
Then he nodded once, turned, and reached for the chain.
The lock popped. The gate rolled open.
The cruisers moved through slow—four units rolling with no lights and no noise. Burke didn’t stop at the barn. He drove straight to the house.
Wade Hollis was already on the porch.
Cigar in hand. Jacket off. Like he’d been expecting company.
