Page 89 of Loco

This time, the caller ID made my jaw clench—Mayor Griggs.

I stared at the screen for a beat before answering, forcing myself into a neutral tone. “Roque.”

“Detective,” he said, with too much familiarity in his voice. “I heard what happened. It’s just awful. I want you to know I’m behind you a hundred percent. You’re one of the best we have.”

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. I hated how he saidwelike we were on the same side.

“In fact,” he continued, “I’ve always thought you should be sheriff. I’ve said so since the day we were introduced.”

I grit my teeth and, without saying a word, typed a quick text to Judd:Get outside now.

Then, I activated the speaker and kept my voice calm. “I appreciate that, but I have full confidence in Sheriff Bailey. Right now, I’m focused on finding my family.”

There was a pause until, smoothly, the mayor replied, “Of course, of course. And actually, I wanted to share something. I have reason to believe Chief Topper was involved in something illegal, I’d like you to look into it.”

Judd slid into the passenger seat silently, catching on immediately as I glanced at him and nodded once.

“That right?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve been keeping my eye on a few things, so I have documents and recordings to back it up. I’d be happy to share them once you’re free.”

I didn’t respond.

“You think you’ll find them?” he asked after a beat, his voice curious. Too curious.

I met Judd’s eyes and said without hesitation, “Absolutely.”

There was a pause on the other end, and the mayor’s voice dropped slightly. “Interesting. Well, call me when you’re free. I think you’ll want to see what I’ve got.”

The line went dead.

Judd stared at me. “He’s up to his neck.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, setting the phone down. “And he’s starting to squirm.”

If the mayor was starting to squirm, that meant the walls were closing in. It meant the pressure was getting to him, and our questions were brushing too close to whatever he was trying to hide. People like him didn’t get nervous unless something valuable or damning was at risk of being exposed. And if that was the case, we weren’t just circling the truth anymore, we were on its doorstep. And for the first time since this whole nightmare began, that didn’t feel like a warning—it felt like a sign. We were right where we needed to be.

Kapono

The engine was still running when I found the patrol vehicle, headlights casting long beams down the empty stretch of road. I pulled up behind it, cut my engine, and stepped out slowly, already knowing what I’d find.

Briggs’s body was sprawled a few feet from the car, twisted like a puppet someone had dropped mid-performance. His limbs were bent at unnatural angles, and his eyes—those smug, arroganteyes—were wide open, fixed on the sky like he was surprised to be dead. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the dirt and cracked asphalt, fresh enough to glisten in the dark. Judging by the angle and the pattern, it looked like a car hit him hard, maybe by someone with more intention behind the wheel.

I crouched next to him and scanned the scene without emotion. We'd already had his name on our list of dirty cops, nothing about him had ever sat right. There’d been too many complaints and favors. Too many reports had been swept under the rug with the same tired phrase— “No further action.”

So, no, I didn’t feel sorry for him.

But I was curious.

What did he do wrong? Did he have a moment of hesitation? A flash of sympathy he hadn’t felt in years. Or was it just a mistake—an arrogant misstep that caught up to him faster than he expected? Knowing Briggs, I figured it was the latter. That man didn’t have it in him to grow a conscience.

I stood and called it in, keeping my voice steady. Then, I returned to my vehicle and headed toward the location Roque had just sent me. Another long shot—but this time, I had a feeling.

All night, it had felt like everything was spiraling out of control. One thing after another—lies, threats, moves made in the dark. Briggs was dead, Topper was in the ICU, and Sayla and the kids were still missing. The syndicate was pushing harder than ever like they thought tonight was the endgame. I couldn’t figure out what they thought they were gaining from all this. Didn’t they realize it was too much and too loud? This was the kind ofmess that burned bridges and exposed cracks—notthe kind you walked away from.

I killed the engine a few blocks from the property and approached on foot, moving through the dark without a sound. The place looked old and forgotten—precisely the kind of building people passed every day without really seeing. That made it perfect for hiding something or someone.

I made a slow loop around the exterior, checking for cameras, lights, or any sign of movement. Then, I found a narrow window, almost hidden behind an old storage shed. It was painted shut and probably hadn’t been opened in years, but the glass was dusty, not boarded, and the interior was dark enough that I thought I could slip in undetected.

---