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“Then who did?” Monster asked.

“The body was identified by his commanding officer,” Mouse said.

Ghost felt the pieces shifting. “What’s the commanding officer’s name?” Mouse went silent. “Mouse.”

“I'm here,” Mouse mumbled.

“Who identified him?” Monster asked.

“Captain Robert Mercer,” he almost whispered.

Razor's face went completely white, and Angel noticed. So did Ghost. “Mercer,” she whispered. Her gaze slowly moved toward Razor. “Your father?” Razor said nothing, but that was answer enough. Angel released Ghost's hand, and she stepped toward him. “Your father was state police?”

Razor stared at the floor. “Was he Bishop?”

“No,” Razor said.

“Did he know Bishop?” she asked.

“Yes,” Razor admitted.

“How well?” she asked.

Razor didn't answer, and Angel's voice rose. “How well?”

Razor looked up at her. “He recruited him.”

Crow swore, and Monster crossed his arms over his chest. “Into what?”

Razor laughed bitterly. “You still don't get it.”

“Get what?” Ghost asked.

“The ledger isn't a list of Nomad Knights' crimes,” Razor said.

“We know that,” Ghost said.

“No.” Razor shook his head. “You don't.”

He looked at Angel. “Your mother wasn't keeping records because she was afraid of the club.” Angel stared at him. “She was keeping records because she discovered the club was being used.”

“Used by who?” Ghost asked.

Razor looked at him. “Bishop.”

Ghost frowned. “You just said your father recruited him.”

“I did,” Razor admitted.

“Then your father—” Ghost started.

Razor smiled without humor. “My father built the whole fucking thing.”

Silence filled the barn, but Angel whispered, “What thing?”

Razor looked at her. “A network.”

“For what?” she asked.