Page 24 of Logan’s Way

Vague enough to be honest. Distant enough to maintain separation. Murphy would understand—she was good at reading between the lines, at knowing when Angus needed solitude to work through complicated things.

But she’d also recognize avoidance and would wonder why he was pulling away now, after weeks of letting her help with the initial investigation. She’d eventually ask questions he wasn’t sure how to answer without making her complicit in what could become an unethical investigation.

The phone buzzed again almost immediately:

Okay. I’m here when you’re ready.

No pressure. No demands. Just availability. That was Murphy—patient and present and exactly the kind of person Angus didn’t want to drag into proximity with whatever was happening around his investigation.

Because Sandra Hammond had been patient and present too, willing to share what she remembered, to confirm what Angus suspected, to be helpful in a way that seemed harmless.

And within an hour, someone had made sure she understood it wasn’t harmless at all.

Angus set his phone on the desk, opened his personal laptop, pulled up his email, and started drafting a message.

The recipient would be Gerald Moss, a retired FBI agent who’d worked trafficking cases in the Southwest. Angus had found his name in the case files connected to Marcus Volk’s disappearance. Moss had been the lead investigator, the one whose notes mentioned that sources became more cooperative once Volk was no longer a threat.

If anyone had noticed the pattern of interventions, it would be someone like Moss. Someone who’d worked multiple cases. Someone who might remember details that never made it into official reports.

Angus typed:

Mr. Moss,

My name is Angus Reid. I’m a sheriff in Maine, and I’m reviewing some old case files related to trafficking networks operating in Las Vegas during⁠—

He stopped. Read what he’d written. Deleted it.

He tried again:

Mr. Moss,

I’m conducting research into victim extraction patterns and came across your work on the Volk investigation. I’d appreciate a few minutes of your time to discuss⁠—

He stopped again. Deleted it.

The cursor blinked on the empty screen. Steady. Patient. Waiting for words that wouldn’t come.

Because sending this email would put Gerald Moss in the same position as Sandra Hammond— noticed, questioned, and vulnerable to the inevitable call advising him to reconsider.

Hammond’s voice echoed in his memory: “I was mistaken. Please don’t contact me again”.

Not angry. Not hostile. Just afraid in a way that made Angus understand exactly what his inquiry had cost her.

* * *

The email sat in drafts, unfinished and unsent. He closed the laptop. Gerald Moss would never know Angus had considered contacting him. Moss would never have to make the choice between confirming what he remembered and claiming confusion to make unwanted attention go away.

Scout’s tail thumped against the floor—not excitement, just acknowledgment of Angus’s presence. The pup understood that sitting together was sometimes enough.

Angus pulled out his notebook and wrote:

Cannot risk additional witness contact. Hammond retraction proves pattern of suppression. Anyone who confirms investigation becomes target.

Then, after a long pause:

No more civilians. No more witnesses. No more people caught in proximity to something they didn’t choose.

The rule settled, and with it, the certainty of decision. He would continue investigating—that much was certain—following the evidence, documenting the truth, and proving that Logan’s death had been manufactured.