Page 41 of Torgash

The casual dismissal makes my spine stiffen. My hands clench at my sides. "That 'creature' has more honor and integrity than half the humans in this county. He's risking everything to help people like you keep your land, while you stand here throwing slurs around."

Tom's stare narrows. "If you say so, Sheriff. Just hope you know what you're doing."

His tone suggests he thinks I don't. I bite back my immediate response.

"Santos will take your full statement," I tell him, gesturing my deputy over. "Vehicle description, timeline, anything else you remember about this man."

While Tom provides details to Santos, I scan the property line where the pasture meets the county road. The tire tracksin the pasture are clearly part of the vandalism—deliberate destruction of maintained grass. But there are no tracks leading from the road to the damaged areas, no clear path showing where the perpetrators parked. The ground near the road is too hard to hold impressions. Whoever did this knew enough to park on pavement and walk in.

My gaze drifts back to the tree line where Ash waits. Even knowing he's there, he's nearly invisible in the shadows, positioned with a clear view of both the farmhouse and the road. Exactly like he promised—close enough to respond to threats, far enough away to avoid interfering with official police business.

Watching. Always watching.

My radio crackles. "Sheriff, this is Roberta. I got a call from the County. They're asking about your location and said they need to discuss case coordination with you ASAP."

I frown. "What kind of case coordination?"

"Didn't specify. Want me to patch you through?"

County law enforcement shouldn't need to coordinate anything with me unless they're planning to take over jurisdiction. And the timing—right when I'm investigating vandalism that clearly connects to Royce's operation—feels too convenient.

"Tell them I'll call back in thirty minutes," I reply. "I'm finishing up a crime scene."

But tension crawls up my neck. Every instinct screams that this is wrong. County doesn't just call demanding immediate case coordination. They send emails, schedule meetings, follow proper channels.

Unless they're not really county.

I catch Santos's attention, gesture to him away from Tom Caldwell. "Pack it up. We're done here."

"But Sheriff—"

"Now, Santos." The urgency in my tone has nothing to do with my own safety and everything to do with getting my deputy out of whatever crosshairs I've painted on us.

He reads the urgency in my words, immediately switching to compliance mode. "Yes, ma'am."

I walk toward the tree line where Ash waits, keeping my expression neutral despite the adrenaline building in my system. He emerges from the shadows as I approach, amber gaze scanning my face with uncomfortable perception.

"What's wrong?" he asks before I can speak.

"Maybe nothing. Maybe everything." I key my radio. "Roberta, about that county call—did they give you a callback number?"

"Negative. Said they'd call back in a few minutes."

His expression hardens. "Royce?"

"Testing response times. Checking our coordination protocols. Seeing how quickly they can get me to expose my location." The pieces fall into place with ugly clarity. "They're mapping our vulnerabilities."

"Time to go." Ash is already moving toward his bike. "Follow me back. Don't go straight to the clubhouse—we'll take a route that flushes out any surveillance."

"What about the Caldwells?" I ask, looking back toward the farmhouse. "If this was a setup to get me out here—"

"Crow will post a prospect in the tree line tonight. If anyone comes back here, we'll know about it."

For once, I don't argue. The open farmland suddenly feels exposed, the county road too convenient for an ambush. I wave Santos toward his cruiser, my stomach churning with certainty that we've stayed too long in one place.

Ash leads us on a winding route through back roads before pulling into the station parking lot. Santos parks his cruiser and gets out, looking confused by the circuitous route we just took.

"Sheriff, you want me to start processing the Caldwell report?"

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