Glass shattered from the front window of Iron Haven.
Avery screamed.
Warren ran inside.
Reese was already beside the girl.
“Down!”
Another shot cracked.
A motorcycle mirror exploded outside.
People scattered.
State police rushed toward the source.
Mercer grabbed Warren.
“Where's Avery?”
“Inside!”
“Then move her.”
They carried Avery into the reinforced storage room at the back of the garage.
Warren locked the door.
Reese crouched beside Avery.
“Look at me.”
Avery was shaking.
“Are they here?”
“No.”
“You promised.”
“I know.”
“Don't let them take me.”
“They won't.”
Outside, police shouted.
Engines roared.
Someone ran across the alley.
Then silence.
A long, terrible silence.
Twenty minutes later, Ortiz entered.
“Shooter got away.”
Warren looked at Mercer.
“Was that for Avery?”
Mercer nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then they know she's alive.”
“Yes.”
“Which means the clock is running.”
Ortiz looked at Warren.
“Unfortunately, that's not all.”
She handed him a photograph.
It showed Avery's mother, Laura Cole, in a hospital bed.
There was a note attached.
Three words.
WE KNOW WHERE SHE IS.
Warren looked at the note.
Then at Ortiz.
“Can Laura testify?”
“Not yet.”
“Can she communicate?”
“Barely.”
“Then we protect her too.”
Ortiz nodded.
But before anyone could say more, the hospital called.
Laura Cole was awake.
And she had asked for Warren.
Warren drove with Ortiz and Reese.
The hospital was surrounded by state officers.
Laura looked terribly weak.
Her face was bruised.
One arm was in a cast.
A breathing tube had been removed earlier.
When Warren entered, her eyes filled with tears.
“Where's Avery?”
“Safe.”
Laura closed her eyes.
“Thank God.”
“You need to tell us everything.”
She nodded.
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
“I found the ledger.”
“What was in it?”
“Names.”
“We know.”
“No.”
Laura's voice trembled.
“You don't.”
She reached beneath her pillow.
There was a tiny key.
She placed it in Warren's hand.
“This opens the real ledger.”
Ortiz leaned forward.
“The one in Vale House?”
Laura shook her head.
“No.”
“Where?”
Laura looked terrified.
“Under the church.”
Warren stared.
“What?”
“St. Mary's.”
Ortiz frowned.
“Why would a church have—”
“Because nobody searches places they believe are sacred.”
Laura started coughing.
Reese handed her water.
Laura whispered,
“They used the church basement.”
Warren felt his stomach turn.
“For what?”
“Meetings.”
“Who attended?”
Laura looked toward the door.
Then she whispered,
“Everyone.”
Warren stared.
“Everyone who?”
“People you trust.”
That sentence hurt more than anything else.
Because it meant Fairview Falls wasn't divided between good people and bad people.
It meant the darkness had spread through the town quietly.
It meant respectable people had been helping.
People with businesses.
People with uniforms.
People with titles.
People who attended church on Sunday.
People who smiled at their neighbors.
People who donated money.
People who had been standing in plain sight.
Laura grabbed Warren's wrist.
“There's one person you can trust.”
“Who?”
She looked toward the window.
“Mercer.”
Warren said nothing.
Laura continued.
“He tried to stop them.”
“Why didn't he expose them?”
“Because he was afraid.”
“Of Vale?”
Laura shook her head.
“Of the person above Vale.”
Warren felt a chill.
“Who?”
Laura closed her eyes.
“I never saw the face.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because of the ring.”
“What ring?”
Laura's breathing became shallow.
“A black ring.”
She looked at Warren.
“With a silver wolf.”
Warren remembered.
He had seen it before.
Not on Vale.
Not on Mercer.
Someone else.
Someone who had stood beside the courthouse during Founders Weekend every year.
Someone Warren had never considered dangerous.
The town pastor.
Reverend Samuel Pike.
Warren left the hospital with a sick feeling in his chest.
He called Ortiz.
“Don't arrest anyone yet.”
“Why?”
“I think we found the man above Vale.”
“Who?”
“Samuel Pike.”
There was silence.
Then Ortiz said,
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“But?”
“I've seen the ring.”
Ortiz immediately ordered a surveillance team.
They followed Pike to St. Mary's.
At 11:48 p.m., the pastor entered through the side door.
Five minutes later, Thomas Vale arrived.
Then three others.
Then Chief Mercer.
Warren watched from a vehicle across the street.
“Why is Mercer going in?”
Ortiz didn't answer.
Inside the church, the men gathered around an old wooden table.
Pike placed a black ledger on it.
Vale looked nervous.
“She's alive,” he said.
Pike's expression remained calm.
“I know.”
“Then we need to move.”
“Where?”
“Out of town.”
Pike smiled.
“You still don't understand.”
Vale stared.
Pike opened the ledger.
“Avery isn't the danger.”
“Then what is?”
“Her mother.”
Vale shook his head.
“Laura is in the hospital.”
“Exactly.”
Pike turned toward Mercer.
“And you.”
Mercer looked at him.
“What?”
“You've been working against us for months.”
Mercer reached for his weapon.
Pike smiled.
“You won't use it.”
“Try me.”
Vale stepped backward.
Pike continued.
“You've already failed.”
Mercer stared.
“What do you mean?”
Pike placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Iron Haven Customs.
The garage.
Warren.
Reese.
Avery.
Everyone.
Mercer's face changed.
“They're watching the garage.”
Pike nodded.
“Right now.”
Mercer suddenly understood.
The shooter hadn't been trying to kill Avery.
He had been trying to force everyone to move.
Because they were being tracked.
The surveillance team outside heard a crash.
The church doors burst open.
Mercer ran.
Pike disappeared through a side corridor.
Vale remained frozen.
State officers arrested him.
But Pike was gone.
Again.
At Iron Haven, Warren sat beside Avery.
She was asleep.
Reese sat nearby.
Tommy stood at the garage door.
Nobody spoke.
Finally Warren said,
“Do you think he'll come here?”
Reese looked at him.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before sunrise.”
Warren nodded.
“Then we'll be ready.”
They turned off the lights.
The garage became dark.
Outside, motorcycles were positioned across the road.
State officers took hidden positions.
The town slept.
At 4:31 a.m., a vehicle approached.
Then another.
Then another.
Warren watched from behind the garage window.
Three black SUVs.
Reese whispered,
“That's them.”
Warren shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“They're a distraction.”
He pointed toward the alley.
A fourth vehicle moved slowly without headlights.
“That's the one.”
Mercer stepped beside him.
“You're right.”
The vehicle stopped.
Two men exited.
Then another.
Warren opened the rear door of the garage.
The Iron Haven riders appeared.
Nobody shouted.