Page 72 of Torgash

I switch calls, expecting a client or the security firm.

"Sheriff Reyes." The caller is male, deep, unfamiliar. Authority that doesn't negotiate.

"Not Sheriff anymore. Who is this?"

"Hammer. Shadow Ridge MC. New York Chapter."

My grip tightens on the phone. The president of the motorcycle club. A man I know by reputation only—the power behind the throne, the one who sanctioned Ash's operation in Shadow Ridge. We've never spoken directly.

"What do you want?" I keep my tone neutral, shoulders tensing.

"Heard you got some news about your sister's case." No small talk, no explanation for how he knows about a call I received minutes ago. He knows my business.

"What's it to you?"

He chuckles, low and brief. "You got a right to know who made it happen."

"Romano said—"

"Your cop friend knows what he was told to tell you. I'm telling you what he didn't." His tone hardens. "Ash stepped down as Shadow Ridge chapter lead the day after you left.Handed control to Vargan and caught the first flight to New York."

My free hand grips the counter. Ash stepped down. Left Shadow Ridge. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because he's spent three months building your sister's case. Called in every legal contact he's cultivated for fifteen years. Burned bridges that can't be rebuilt." A pause. "And made damn sure you'd never know he was behind it."

The counter edge cuts into my palm. "That's not possible." The words come out too fast. "Derek's alibi was airtight. I've spent six years trying to break it—"

"Nobody with a badge." Hammer cuts me off. "But a man with the right motivation and wrong connections? Different story."

My throat closes. Six years. Six years of hitting dead ends, following leads that went nowhere, carrying Carman's death like a weight that never lifted. "What exactly did he do?"

"Got Derek Sullivan to sign a full confession, for starters." Grim satisfaction bleeds through the phone. "Let's say he had a compelling conversation with some associates who helped him understand the value of clearing his conscience."

Derek confessed. The words don't process. Can't process. Derek Sullivan, who walked free while my sister's body went cold in the ground, who disappeared behind bought alibis and dirty badges—he confessed.

"Why would Ash do this?" My own question sounds distant, like someone else asked it.

"You'd have to ask him that." His tone softens marginally. "But he made it clear none of us were to contact you. Said you deserved to move on without Shadow Ridge's baggage. Without his."

"Then why are you calling me?"

"Because loyalty runs both ways, Sheriff. He gave his all for this club when we needed him. Figured someone should return the favor."

My chest tightens. I blink hard, refusing the reaction. "Where is he now?"

"New York chapter house. Taking point on business deals that keep him behind a desk and away from anything that might remind him of Shadow Ridge." A pause. "Orc's functioning, but that's about all I'd call it."

I should thank him for the information. Should feel grateful that Carman might finally get justice. Instead, anger builds in my chest, sharp and unexpected.

"He had no right." The words shake as they spill out. "This was my fight. My sister. My burden to carry."

"Your burden became his at some point. At least, that's how he feels about it." Hammer doesn't sound sympathetic.

"I didn't ask for his help."

"And he didn't ask for permission to give it." A pause. "Just thought you should know who to thank when your sister's killer goes to prison."

The line goes dead before I can respond.

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