Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
FBI Internal Affairs descended within hours of Keller's arrest, a swarm of dark suits and hard expressions taking over the conference room Sam usually used for staff meetings.
Agents Jo didn't recognize conducted interviews, reviewed files, demanded access to everything from security footage to personnel records.
Word had spread fast. A federal agent arrested by local cops. Charges of corruption, conspiracy, murder. The kind of story that made careers and ended others.
Reese fielded calls at the front desk with the patience of a saint, directing reporters to "no comment" and curious citizens to an official statement that didn't exist yet. Major had retreated to the top of the highest filing cabinet, watching the chaos with feline disdain.
And Lucy—Lucy stayed pressed against Sam's leg, a low growl building in her chest every time a new agent walked past.
Dawn light crept through the station windows, pale and thin. None of them had slept. Jo doubted any of them would for a while.
She stood near Sam's office, watching the controlled chaos unfold. Kevin had taken Bridget home hours ago—she didn't need to be here for this, and Kevin needed to be the one to tell her it was over. That they'd won.
Had they won?
Keller was in a holding cell, refusing to speak without his lawyer. The syndicate man—who still hadn't given a name—was in the cell beside him, equally silent. The evidence box sat in the conference room, logged and documented, chain of custody preserved.
And Wyatt was in a small room they’d turned into an interview room telling his story to people who had the power to destroy him.
The interview room felt smaller than it ever had before.
Wyatt sat on the wrong side of the table—the side reserved for suspects, for criminals, for people whose lives were about to change forever. His hands were flat on the metal surface, palms down, like he was trying to anchor himself to something solid.
Across from him, Agent Drake from Internal Affairs reviewed her notes with the kind of precision that made his skin crawl. She was sharp, thorough—exactly the kind of investigator you wanted on your side and never wanted pointed at you.
Right now, she was very much pointed at him.
“Let’s go through it again,” Drake said. Her voice was neutral, professional. Giving nothing away. “From the beginning. When did your father first make contact?”
Wyatt had already told the story twice. Each time felt like peeling off another layer of skin.
“Three weeks ago. A body in my trunk. Cooper.” He kept his voice steady, mechanical. Facts. Just give them facts. “I didn’t know it was Cooper at first. Just knew it was a message. My father’s way of saying he’d found me.”
“And you didn’t report it.”
“I should have.” Wyatt’s jaw tightened. “I know that. But my mother—she’s at risk. If I’d come forward, if I’d done the right thing, he would have killed her. He made that very clear.”
Drake made a note. “So you complied with his demands.”
“I stalled. Altered some digital records. Deleted searches that were getting too close to information he wanted buried.” The words tasted like ash. “I never gave him what he really wanted. The physical evidence—the box cutter—I couldn’t make myself cross that line.”
“But you were prepared to. Tonight. You signed that evidence out of lockup.”
“As part of a sanctioned operation.” Wyatt leaned forward. “Chief Mason knew. Detective Harris knew. We set a trap. I was the bait.”
“A trap that nearly got you killed.”
“A trap that caught a dirty federal agent.” Wyatt met her eyes.
“Keller murdered two of your people. Cooper and Marcus Harrington. Your people. He’s been working with the Binding Chain for fifteen years, feeding them information, protecting their operations.
We have him on tape admitting all of it. ”
“The recording is being analyzed,” she said. “If it confirms what you’re saying—“
“It will.”
“—then your cooperation will be taken into account.” Drake closed her notebook. “But I need you to understand something, Officer Davis. You compromised evidence. You lied to your colleagues. You aided, however reluctantly, a criminal organization.”
“I know.”
“Those actions have consequences.”
Wyatt nodded slowly. He’d known this was coming. Known it from the moment he’d opened his trunk three weeks ago and seen a dead man staring back at him.
“I’m prepared for that,” he said. “Whatever you decide—suspension, termination, charges—I’ll accept it.
I just need you to know that I never stopped being a cop.
Even when I was doing things I’m ashamed of, I was trying to protect people.
My mother. My team. The witnesses whose lives would have been destroyed if those files got out. ”
Drake studied him for a long moment. Whatever she was thinking, she kept it locked behind that professional mask.
“Wait here,” she said, and left the room.
Wyatt sat alone in the silence, staring at his hands.
He’d told the truth. All of it. Whatever happened next was out of his control.
The door opened again, and Sam stepped inside.
“Hey,” Sam said quietly, closing the door behind him. “How are you holding up?”
Wyatt laughed—a hollow, exhausted sound. “I’ve been better.”
Sam pulled out the chair Drake had vacated and sat down across from him. Lucy had followed him in, and she padded around the table to press against Wyatt’s leg. Her warmth was a comfort he didn’t feel like he deserved.
“Drake’s tough,” Sam said. “But she’s fair. She’ll look at the whole picture.”
“And if the whole picture still shows a cop who betrayed his oath?”
“Then we deal with it.” Sam’s voice was steady. “But you didn’t betray anything, Wyatt. You were put in an impossible situation by a monster who happens to share your DNA. You made choices—some good, some bad—but you never stopped fighting. That counts for something.”
Wyatt looked down at Lucy, at her calm, trusting eyes. She’d never growled at him. Never pulled away. Even when he was lying to everyone else, she’d stayed by his side.
“I picked up the coin,” he said quietly. “At the mill. Keller offered me a way out, and I picked it up.”
“You were buying time.”
“Was I?” Wyatt met Sam’s eyes. “I’ve been asking myself that all night. If you hadn’t come through that door—if I’d had another ten seconds to think about it—would I have taken the deal?”
Sam was quiet for a moment. The station noise filtered through the walls—voices, footsteps, the hum of a building that never really slept.
“I don’t know,” Sam said finally. “And neither do you. That’s the thing about choices—you don’t really know what you would have done until you have to do it.
What I do know is that when it mattered, you held the line.
You wore the wire. You walked into that mill knowing you might not walk out.
That’s not the action of a man who was ready to turn. ”
Wyatt wanted to believe him.
“My father’s still out there,” he said. “He knows where I am now. What I did. He won’t let this go.”
“No,” Sam agreed. “He won’t. But now you’re not facing him alone. Now you’ve got a team that knows the truth and has your back anyway.” He reached across the table and gripped Wyatt’s shoulder. “We protect our own, Wyatt. Whatever comes next, we face it together.”
The door opened again. Drake stood in the threshold, her expression unreadable.
“Officer Davis,” she said. “You’re free to go. For now. We’ll be in touch about the formal investigation, but given the circumstances and your cooperation in apprehending Agent Keller, you’re not being held or charged at this time.”
Wyatt blinked. “I—thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Drake’s voice softened, just slightly. “You’ve got a long road ahead. But for what it’s worth—Marcus Harrington was my cousin. What you helped expose tonight... it matters.”
She turned and walked away, leaving Wyatt and Sam alone.
Sam stood. “Come on. There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”
Shaw was waiting in the squad room, Shadow curled at her feet.
She looked as exhausted as Wyatt felt—dark circles under her eyes, her usual sharp edges softened by fatigue. But when she saw him, something like respect flickered across her face.
“Davis.” She gestured to a chair. “Sit.”
Wyatt sat. Lucy and Shadow regarded each other for a moment, then settled into an easy coexistence—two dogs who’d been through something together and come out the other side.
“I owe you an apology,” Shaw said. “I let you walk into that mill thinking I was the enemy. If I’d trusted your team sooner—”
“You didn’t know you could trust us.” Wyatt shrugged. “I spent three weeks lying to everyone I work with. I’m not in a position to judge.”
Shaw almost smiled. “Fair point.”
They sat in silence for a moment. The coffee maker gurgled in the corner. Outside, the chaos continued—agents moving through the station, phones ringing, the machinery of justice grinding forward.
“How long?” Wyatt asked. “How long have you been hunting Keller?”
“Five years.” Shaw’s jaw tightened. “Since the day Marcus died. The Bureau investigated, came up empty. Keller was too careful, too connected. He had friends in all the right places.” Her voice hardened. “So I stopped playing by the rules. Took leave. Started building my own case.”
“The Motel 8 searches.”
“Every case Keller ever touched. Every operation, every informant, every suspicious death. I mapped all of it. I knew he’d slip up eventually—I just had to be there when it happened.”
“And Cooper?”
Shaw’s expression flickered with something like grief. “Cooper reached out to me six months ago. He’d started noticing things about Keller—inconsistencies, lies. We were building a case together.” She paused. “Then Keller found out. Cooper died before he could get the evidence out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Be glad we caught him.” Shaw leaned back in her chair. “The recording from your wire—it’s gold. Keller admitted everything. Marcus, Cooper, his whole fifteen-year run with the Binding Chain. He’s done.”
“But the organization isn’t.”
“No.” Shaw’s eyes met his. “Your father is still out there. The Binding Chain is still operating. This was one battle, not the war.”
Wyatt thought about the coin. About his father’s patience, his long memory. About the threat that would hang over him and everyone he loved until one of them was dead or in prison.
She extended her hand.
Wyatt shook it. Her grip was firm, steady.
“You’re a good cop, Davis,” Shaw said. “Don’t let what your father is make you forget what you are.”
“I’ll try.”
She nodded once, then headed for the door. At the threshold, she paused.
“Lucy and Shadow,” she said, glancing back. “I still don’t know how they know each other. Never did figure that out.”
Wyatt looked at the two dogs—Lucy’s calm watchfulness, Shadow’s quiet alertness. Two animals who’d recognized something in each other from the first moment they’d met.
“Maybe some things don’t need explaining,” he said.
Shaw almost smiled. “Maybe not.”
Then she was gone, Shadow padding silently at her heels.
Wyatt sat alone in the break room, Lucy’s head resting on his knee. Outside, the sun was climbing higher, burning away the night. The station hummed with activity—a new day beginning, whether any of them were ready for it or not.
His phone buzzed.
A text from Jo: My cottage tonight. 8pm. Mandatory.
Despite everything, Wyatt felt something loosen in his chest.
He typed back: I’ll be there.
Whatever came next, he wouldn’t face it alone.