An hour earlier, Deputy Jenkins had stopped in for coffee and quietly told him:
“Keep the scanner close tonight.”
That was it.
No explanation.
No details.
But now, when Burke’s cruiser and two dark state tactical SUVs slipped silently through the intersection—headlights cut completely black—the mood inside the bar shifted instantly.
The EMS driver paused with his glass halfway to his mouth.
Steve stopped mid-wipe.
Nobody said a word.
They all watched the convoy disappear up toward Snob Hill.
The firefighters knew the difference between a routine patrol and a tactical roll-out.
And whatever was happening tonight?—
* * *
Sylva — Judge Harlan’s Residence
Judge Harlan answered the door, looking furious.
“You better have a body in the truck, Burke.”
Burke stood on the porch holding the warrant packet while Grant waited behind him in the darkness.
“We have probable cause connected to a kidnapping and narcotics movement.”
Harlan exhaled hard.
“Jesus Christ.”
He stepped aside reluctantly.
The old judge moved into the study, muttering under his breath while Burke laid photos and property maps across the desk.
“Burke, this is thin, and you know it.”
“Last time I signed one of your warrants tied to Wade Hollis, all you found was fertilizer, horse feed, and a very expensive lawsuit waiting to happen.”
Burke held his ground.
“They moved the shipment before we got there.”
“And Wade Hollis made this department look foolish in front of half the county.”
“We have active surveillance on the property.”
“You have a deputy looking at a building in the woods.”
“We have a kidnapping victim potentially being moved before daylight.”
