Chapter 22
Skylar
A week had passed since the name Declan Smisson entered our lives, and the city still felt like it was holding its breath.
Hex hadn't surfaced. Every lead on his location had gone cold within hours, and the federal apprehension team was due in two days.
In the meantime the work had narrowed to one man and the question of how deeply Chief Morrison was involved.
We’ve spent long hours pulling every record we could find on Declan, every transaction that touched his name, and every gap in the station's access logs that might point to him.
But it’s the newness of my relationship with two men I’m falling hard for that’s taking every other part of day.
We’re still trying to find our rhythm but it’s easier now.
Emrys cooks when he can’t sleep. Kade disappears into contracts and security liabilities when it gets too quiet and I try to keep my focus on the evidence even when the urge to go back to the station and demand answers grows stronger every day.
A call comes on a Thursday afternoon while I'm at the long table in Kade's office with Dana and Sloane. Morrison's name appears on my screen and I step into the hallway to answer it. I expect another round of bureaucratic stonewalling. I don't expect the accusation that opens the conversation.
"Someone's been accessing restricted files on the Hex case and the West Talbot assault," she says without greeting. "Internal logs show repeated queries from outside the building. I'm asking you directly, Grayson. Is it you?"
The question lands like a slap. I keep my voice level even as my amber sharpens beneath my skin.
"If someone's digging into those files it's because the case was mishandled from the beginning.
I've been working with the task force to connect the dots you refused to look at.
If that makes me the problem, then yes, I'm the problem. "
Morrison's voice tightens. "You were removed from the active investigation for a reason. Your personal connections have compromised your judgment. I won't have you dragging this department through another scandal while a killer walks free."
The words hit exactly where she means them to. My connection to Emrys and Kade has been turned into a weapon against me, and she's wielding it without hesitation. I feel the old reflex to shut down and walk away rise and then settle. I'm not walking away this time.
"You're protecting him," I say. "You've been protecting him since the night Kade was arrested.
The call that came in too early, the evidence that was mishandled, the way you kept Kade on the suspect list even after the footage cleared him.
All of it points to the same thing. You knew who attacked Emrys and you chose not to stop it. "
There's a long silence on the other end of the line. When she speaks again her voice has lost some of its edge. "Come to my house. We're not doing this over the phone."
She ends the call before I can answer. I stand in the hallway for a moment with the phone still in my hand and the weight of the accusation settling in my chest. Then I grab my coat and tell Kade I'm going to see her.
He doesn't try to stop me. He only nods once and says he'll be here when I get back.
Morrison's house sits on a quiet street in one of the older neighborhoods on the west side of Ansdale.
It's a modest two-story with a small porch and a yard that's seen better days.
I park at the curb and walk up the path without giving myself time to second-guess the decision.
She opens the door before I can knock. The woman who stands in the doorway isn't the chief I've faced across her desk for the past week.
The severe bun is gone. Her hair hangs loose around her shoulders and her face looks older in the afternoon light.
The bureaucratic armor she wears like a second skin has slipped, and what remains is exhaustion.
She steps back without speaking and lets me inside. The living room is tidy but lived-in, with framed photographs on the mantel and a half-read book open on the coffee table. She doesn't offer me a seat. She simply closes the door and turns to face me with her arms crossed over her chest.
"You've been digging into my family," she says. It isn't a question.
"I've been digging into the man who attacked my mate and framed another," I answer. "Declan Smisson. Your son. The one who's been accessing station files and feeding information to the network that protected Hex for years. I'm trying to understand how much you knew and when you knew it."
Morrison's jaw tightens. For a moment I think she'll order me out of her house.
Instead she walks to the mantel and picks up one of the framed photographs.
It shows a younger version of herself with a boy who can't be more than ten.
The resemblance is unmistakable even in the faded colors of the print.
"He was just a kid," she says quietly. "Smart. Angry. Always asking why the rules only applied to some people and not others. I thought if I gave him structure he'd settle. I thought the badge would mean something to him the way it meant something to me."
She sets the photograph down and looks at me directly. The deflection is still there, but it's thinner now. The exhaustion in her face makes it harder to maintain.
"You knew he was involved," I say. "You knew and you let the investigation point at Kade instead. You let Emrys believe he wasn't safe in his own home. And you would've framed my mates for it if the evidence hadn't been too clean to ignore."
The words land between us like a line drawn in the air.
Morrison doesn't deny it. She doesn't defend herself.
She simply stands there with her shoulders slightly hunched and her eyes fixed on the photograph she's just set down.
The silence stretches long enough that I can hear the clock ticking on the wall behind her.
When she finally speaks her voice is low. "I don't know where he is. He stopped answering my calls three days ago. I've been trying to reach him through every channel I have left and he's gone. If he's working with the people who let Hex out, then I've already lost him."
I study her face for any sign of deception and find only the raw edge of someone who's spent years holding a department together while her own son slipped further out of reach.
The accusation I carried into her house feels heavier now that I can see the cost it's already exacted on her.
I don't soften. I can't. Not when Emrys still wakes some nights reaching for the light switch and Kade carries the memory of handcuffs in the set of his shoulders.
"I'm not leaving this alone," I say. "If you're protecting him, I'll find out. If you're being used by him, I'll find that out too. Either way, the federal team will be here soon and they won't care whose son he is."
Morrison nods once, as if she's expected nothing less.
She doesn't ask me to stay. She doesn't offer any further information.
She simply walks me to the door and closes it behind me without another word.
I stand on the porch for a moment and let the cool air clear the scent of her house from my lungs.
Then I get back in my car and drive toward Rourke Securities with the weight of the conversation sitting heavy in my chest.
I'm halfway there when my phone rings. Dana's name appears on the screen.
"Declan just parked outside a warehouse on the old industrial road," she says without preamble. "We've got a drone up. He hasn't moved in twenty minutes. The building's registered to a shell company that traces back to one of the Cardinal accounts."
I pull the car to the side of the road and put the call on speaker. "Send me the coordinates. I'll get it to Caldwell."
She does. I forward the location to Caldwell with a short message. He calls back within two minutes.
"We don't move until the team's in position," he says.
His voice carries the same steady focus it always does when something's gone wrong before and he's determined not to let it happen again.
"I lost a prisoner once already. I'm not doing it twice.
Tell Kade to keep his people back. This is federal jurisdiction now and I'm not giving them any reason to shut us out. "