Wade Hollis stood on the porch.
Stetson on now.
Jacket back in place.
Like the whole thing had been nothing more than a brief interruption in his day.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t call out.
Didn’t wave.
As Burke’s cruiser passed, Wade tipped his hat.
A faint smile under the brim.
Burke’s grip tightened on the wheel.
For half a second, he thought about stopping.
Walking back up that drive.
Wiping that look clean off Wade Hollis’s face.
He didn’t. He kept driving.
He reached for his phone.
Dialed.
“Yeah?” Grant answered.
Burke didn’t take his eyes off the road.
“They moved it.”
A pause.
“Where?”
“That’s what we’re about to find out.”
* * *
Jackson County Sheriff’s Office — Late Afternoon
Burke stood over his desk, one hand braced against the wood, the other flipping through a stack of printed records.
Property maps.
Tax parcels.
Shell LLC filings.
It spread out in front of him like a maze.
Grant leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Watching.
