"What brings the two of you down here?"
Voss leaned against the bars.
"An opportunity."
Daniel laughed.
"That's what you called it last time."
"This one is different."
"How?"
Bell opened the portfolio.
Inside were several documents.
Voss removed one.
"A statement."
Daniel stared at it.
"What kind?"
"A confession."
"Whose?"
"Yours."
Daniel's expression hardened.
Voss continued.
"You will sign a statement admitting that you stole territorial records, forged your grandfather's claim, and conspired with Caleb Mercer to extort the development company."
Daniel laughed.
It was a harsh, exhausted sound.
"You expect me to sign that?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because if you don't, your sister will be charged with the same crimes."
Daniel went still.
Voss watched him carefully.
"She's already involved."
"You leave Mara out of this."
"Then sign."
Daniel stepped toward the bars.
"You burned her house."
Voss said nothing.
"You sent Rook after her."
Still nothing.
Daniel's voice rose.
"You've spent eleven months threatening me, and now you're threatening her because you know the truth is coming out."
Bell shifted uneasily.
"Gideon, perhaps we should—"
"Quiet."
Daniel looked at Bell.
"How much did he pay you?"
Bell stiffened.
"What?"
"To destroy the survey records."
"That's absurd."
"How much?"
Bell looked away.
Daniel smiled bitterly.
"Was it enough?"
Voss struck the bars with his revolver.
"Enough!"
Daniel did not flinch.
For the first time in months, he saw something beneath the sheriff's anger.
Fear.
Real fear.
And that meant the balance was changing.
Voss shoved the confession through the bars.
"Sign it."
Daniel took the paper.
He read the first paragraph.
Then the second.
Then he tore it in half.
Bell gasped.
Voss stared.
Daniel dropped the pieces onto the floor.
"No."
The sheriff's face darkened.
"You've made a mistake."
Daniel looked directly at him.
"No, Sheriff."
He stepped closer.
"My mistake was believing you could be reasoned with."
Voss raised his revolver.
Bell caught his arm.
"Gideon!"
The sheriff turned.
"Get your hands off me."
Bell released him.
"We need him alive."
Voss stared at Daniel.
Then slowly lowered the weapon.
"You're fortunate Mr. Harrow arrives today."
Daniel's heart quickened.
"Harrow?"
Bell looked sharply at Voss.
The sheriff smiled.
"Yes. The man who owns the future of Red Hollow."
Daniel's expression remained carefully blank.
But inside, his thoughts raced.
Edward Harrow was coming.
That meant the company's plans were reaching their final stage.
The railroad survey.
The northern water rights.
The forced transfers.
Everything Daniel had uncovered pointed toward a single transaction.
A transaction worth more money than most people in Red Hollow would see in ten lifetimes.
And Harrow intended to complete it before anyone could challenge the records.
Voss turned toward the stairs.
"You have until noon."
Daniel watched him leave.
Bell lingered.
For a moment, the land commissioner looked almost ashamed.
Then he whispered, "You should sign."
Daniel stared at him.
"Why?"
"Because there are things worse than prison."
Daniel stepped closer.
"Tell that to the families whose homes you stole."
Bell lowered his eyes.
Then he followed Voss upstairs.
The iron door slammed shut.
Daniel waited.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
Then he knelt beside the cot.
He removed the loose stone.
The tunnel beyond was dark.
He reached into the opening and pulled away another handful of dirt.
Then another.
At last, the gap was wide enough.
Daniel lay flat and pushed himself through.
Stone scraped his shoulders.
His injured ribs burned.
But he kept moving.
Behind him, the cell disappeared.
Ahead, cold air touched his face.
He crawled through the darkness toward the sound of running water.
After several minutes, the passage widened.
He found himself in an old drainage tunnel beneath the courthouse.
A narrow stream ran along the floor.
Above him, wagon wheels rattled over the street.
Daniel smiled.
He was outside the cell.
Not free.
Not yet.
But closer than he had been in eleven months.
Then he heard voices.
Two men.
One familiar.
Silas Rook.
"Voss says the prisoner stays alive until Harrow arrives."
Another man laughed.
"And after?"
Rook answered.
"After that, nobody cares."
Daniel pressed himself against the wall.
The men were standing near the tunnel's northern exit.
He could see daylight beyond them.
Freedom was twenty feet away.
But the passage was too narrow to pass unnoticed.
Daniel looked around.
There was a rusted iron pipe beside the wall.
A loose wooden support beam.
And a narrow opening leading toward the courthouse basement.
He considered his choices.
Then he smiled grimly.
For eleven months, he had been waiting for someone to rescue him.
Now he understood that nobody was coming.
He would have to rescue himself.
He lifted the iron pipe.
And waited.
Edward Harrow arrived in Red Hollow at eleven forty-three in the morning.
The eastbound train rolled into the station beneath a cloud of steam and coal smoke.
Its whistle echoed across the valley.
Shopkeepers stepped onto their porches.
Children ran toward the tracks.
Men removed their hats.
Even the saloon fell unusually quiet.
Harrow was the richest man most people in Red Hollow had ever seen.
He owned mining interests, railroad shares, warehouses, and enough land to make a small kingdom.
His name appeared on banknotes, contracts, and buildings throughout the territory.
To the townspeople, he represented progress.
To Sheriff Voss, he represented power.
To Caleb Mercer, he represented seventeen years of unanswered questions.
The train slowed.
A porter opened the door of a private carriage.
Edward Harrow stepped onto the platform.
He was sixty-two, with silver hair, a carefully trimmed beard, and a black suit tailored in San Francisco.
His polished shoes touched the dusty boards without hesitation.
Behind him came two assistants carrying leather cases.