Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
RIOS
Sometimes, it was easier to let the rest of the island pretend it was finished.
The papers called it closure. Carson played hero for the cameras—though Priya herself had made it clear in interviews that it was Madden and me who’d rescued her.
But in the living room at Sutter House, none of us bought the neat and tidy resolution for a second.
The air all but vibrated with everything we couldn’t prove, and couldn’t afford to ignore.
While we’d celebrated Priya’s safe return, we knew it wasn’t finished. Not even close.
Madden sat beside me on the leather couch, one foot tucked under the other leg, fingers hovering over the laptop she’d seldom been without over the past week.
Without Priya’s case to work on, she’d dived back into the files Grant had given her, tightening up connections, highlighting patterns.
To what end, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps just to keep busy, to keep feeling as if she was doing something in the face of this insurmountable threat.
The rest of the crew were close, coffee table and every flat surface covered in mugs, notebooks, takeout boxes, the debris of a meal nobody remembered eating. Not a party, not a wake—a war council, every eye turned in, every back to the walls. A heaviness had settled, a tangle of hope and dread.
Nobody here was eager to move on, and nobody tried to force relief.
I’d never been more grateful for these people and their refusal to look away.
In their presence, I felt less alone—reminded that the urge to do something, even in the face of systems designed to grind us down, was its own kind of hope.
Daniel cleared his throat, the signal that whatever was coming wasn’t gossip.
“I did some diggin’ in the wake of Mullowney’s takedown.
Somethin’ about his name rang a bell. Turns out his name had come up in connection with a few boats we have our eyes on for drug running.
” He shrugged. “Nothing concrete, just chatter. Maybe nothing, maybe not. But his name’s in the mix, and it’s got the higher-ups glancing our way. ”
Sawyer leaned in, brow furrowed. “So he was mixed up in something?”
Daniel’s mouth gave a wry twist. “Might be. Or might’ve just been there when they needed a hand. Nobody’s sayin’ he ran anything. Could be he just worked with the wrong crew.”
Ford made a rough sound, his jaw tense. “Damn. Figures.”
Something clicked in my head. Investigator’s muscle memory. The wrong crew, the wrong time. Sometimes that was all it took, especially when the network was bigger than anybody wanted to admit. My frustration simmered, sharp as salt on a wound.
“So we’ve got a guy who might or might not be involved in drug running, who kidnapped Priya Shah for reasons unknown.” I turned the pieces over in my head. “Ostensibly, he didn’t physically hurt her, and she said herself he kept saying he’d done it to keep her safe.”
“Where are you going with this?” Ford asked.
“Stay with me for a bit. If you’ve got channels to move product, it’s not a leap to think you could move other cargo too.
Drugs, guns, people. It’s all the same to the folks at the top.
And the ones who disappear are the ones nobody notices.
We already had reason to believe Priya wasn’t the intended target.
If she was nabbed by mistake and was too hot to move, as it were, logic dictates they’d simply kill her and be done with it.
But instead, we have Mullowney, who took her.
Kept her. Because she was a face he knew.
Someone he’d played pool with. Someone he had a human connection to.
Harder to see someone you have a connection with—no matter how tenuous—as cargo. ”
Sawyer ran a hand through his hair, voice uneasy. “You think he was in over his head, realized it, and couldn’t go through with it?”
“Maybe,” I said. “It’s a better explanation for why he took her but never assaulted her. If he was involved, I doubt it was anywhere higher on the food chain, or him removing her from the pipeline wouldn’t have been such a problem for him. No real way to verify since he’s dead.”
Daniel nodded, face set. “If he was involved and bucked the orders from his higher ups, they’d have wanted to cut their losses. If the police hadn’t killed him, someone else likely would have.”
The silence took on an almost physical weight as the group collectively processed that new edge to the story. I glanced at Madden—her face was grave, her hand steady on the laptop, but her shoulders were tight, like she was bracing for an aftershock.
“What if—” Willa bit her lip, hesitant.
“What if what?” I prompted.
She pressed on, words stumbling out. “I mean, I hate to say this, but what if the police are involved somehow? What if the run-in that resulted in Mullowney’s death was their way of taking him out? I mean, if someone wanted him gone…”
Nobody shot her down. We all understood the fear.
Madden’s eyes met mine, and her voice was measured.
“We can’t know what’s in Carson’s head,” she said evenly.
“Maybe he’s just willfully ignorant, because ignorance is safe.
Might be it’s more. Either way, the result is the same.
He’s failed everyone who didn’t have the power to demand more.
What we do have clear proof of is a pattern of gross negligence and failure to follow reasonable procedure that extends back fifteen years, at minimum. ”
Daniel shrugged. “From what I see, it’s easier to let things slide than to risk making enemies. Everything I’ve seen in working with him shows he likes a neat file and a closed case.”
Bree scowled. “So what? He’ll keep sweeping this kind of case under the rug until someone makes it impossible?”
My own frustration rose—this endless inertia, this island-wide willingness to pretend because people needed at least the illusion of safety. I felt it in my bones, the way I used to sense the approach of a storm at sea. “Someone has to force the issue. That’s the only way it ever changes.”
Madden drew a slow breath, and with it the tenor of the room changed.
“That’s what I’ve been working on.” She glanced around, making sure everyone was listening.
“I put together a packet—fifteen years of missing persons, all the cases that never got a proper search, all the requests for information that were stonewalled. Every file that was closed for the sake of convenience instead of truth. I cross-referenced patterns—who disappeared, how long the cases stayed open, which files never made it to the press. The files I was slipped helped fill in a lot of gaps, but there’s more from public record if you know where and what to look for. ”
Willa sat forward, eyes huge and earnest. “What do we do with it?”
Madden’s eyes hardened. “He’s spent all this time hiding behind procedure.
So, I’m turning procedure against him. I’m sending everything I’ve found to the State Bureau of Investigation with an audit request. No name, no traceable connection.
Every digital fingerprint’s scrubbed. They’ll have to open an inquiry.
It takes the decision out of Carson’s hands. ”
Ford loosed a low whistle. “That’s ballsy.”
Daniel looked at her with respect. “That’s not something he’ll expect.”
Sawyer let out a sound that was half a laugh, half a groan. “He’s gonna lose it. I hope someone has a camera on him when he finds out.”
“He’ll be getting a copy of the complaint himself,” she added.
I frowned. “That’s a bit like poking the bear. He might take it as a threat.”
“It’s not meant as a threat.” Madden paused. “Well, not entirely. It’s part of procedure that he be notified.”
Bree leaned in, her tone sharpening. “Anonymous or not, he’s going to want a scapegoat, you know. That’s how men like him operate. He’ll sniff around, try to intimidate, start rumors.”
Madden’s smile was thin. “That’s why it’s anonymous. I’m not stupid. But it’s the only way to force him out from behind his desk. He’s hidden behind policy and paperwork for too long.”
Ford looked my way. “You’ll watch her back?”
I nodded, meaning it with every part of me. “Always.”
A low hum of agreement moved through the group. For the first time all night, something like hope flickered.
I caught Madden’s gaze. “It’s the right next step. And yeah, if he’s actually dirty, it’ll rattle his cage. So we stay sharp. We watch. We wait. And whatever comes, we face it.”