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“And Roman?”

“What?”

“Don't underestimate him.”

“I don't underestimate anyone.”

A beat of silence hangs between us.

“No,” Bishop says. “You don't.”

The call ends.

I lower the phone.

Everything feels different now.

Ten minutes ago, I was thinking about Chaos announcing her lack of hemorrhoids to an elderly woman.

Now there's a man in Hollow Creek who uses innocent people as leverage.

I open the file.

Gavin Mercer stares back at me. Early forties. Brown hair. Ordinary face.

That's the first thing I notice. Nothing about him screams danger.

No scars. No tattoos crawling up his neck. No expression that would make someone cross the street.

He looks like a man who could stand behind you in line for coffee and never register.

Those are usually the most dangerous ones.

I scroll, reading the file.

His aliases.

Vehicles.

Known associates.

Suspected killings.

Places he's lived.

People who've disappeared after crossing him.

Then I reach the surveillance photos.

Mercer outside a gas station. Entering a restaurant. Sitting alone at a table. Walking down a sidewalk.

I zoom in on one. He's looking directly at the camera. He knows it's there.

He notices people.

My jaw tightens. Callie notices people too. Unfortunately, she has none of the instincts telling her when to stop.

My phone buzzes.