Chapter 29
The night was beginning to cool around her. Crickets picked up in the brush, their rhythmic song drifting through the warm evening and blending with the rustle of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze.
Colin found her sitting on the porch, her back to the steps, legs tucked comfortably beneath her. She wasn’t surprised when he came into view, only turning her head slightly and offering a tired smile.
He stood in the doorway for a moment, reading her like he always had. Her shoulders were slouched, her eyes a faint red and swollen from tears.
“Brought food,” he said softly, lifting the paper bag.
“Of course you did.” Her voice was hoarse, but lighter than she expected. She scooted over without being asked.
He sat beside her, setting the bag between them.
“I broke it off with Isaac,” she said finally, so quietly she thought he missed it. Colin hadn’t flinched, but she felt the shift in his breath beside her. But he didn’t say anything.
“I didn’t tell him everything. But I told him enough. Things changed. I think he already knew. I’ve been holding on to what he represented,” she admitted. “Stability and a clean slate. Turns out you can’t outrun the past...it waits for you.”
Colin shifted closer, enough for their arms to brush. “You don’t owe me anything, Kara,” he said, voice low and steady. “But…if you’re telling me this, I’m guessing it’s not just because you needed to say it out loud.”
She glanced over at him. The porch light caught the edge of his face, softening him. He wasn’t expecting anything from her. That’s what made it so easy to choose him.
“You’re not asking what it means?” she asked, voice almost fragile.
“I don’t have to ask,” he said. “I can feel it.”
She stared down at the wood grain between them. “It’s like there’s this space opening up inside me, and I don’t know if it’s relief or healing. Maybe both.”
He nodded. “Probably both.”
Kara’s throat tightened. “I thought once I ended things with Isaac, it would be easier to breathe. But all I feel is… raw.”
“You were with someone good.” Colin leaned back on his palms, looking up at the sky. “But sometimes good doesn’t mean right.”
“You always know exactly what to say.”
“No. I just know when not to say something stupid.”
“I’m scared.”
He turned to her. “Of what?”
“Of messing this up, whatever this is.”
He just looked at her like he’d been waiting for this moment all his life. “We’ll figure it out,” he said.
Kara nodded slowly, content to rest in the belief that, together, they would find a way through.
“Besides,” he added, nudging the paper bag, “We’ve got warm chicken and soup. And I’m pretty sure sadness goes down easier with food.”
“You really never change.”
He smiled. “And somehow, you still don’t hate that.”
Kara couldn't have said what had changed, only that the air between them was different now that she felt at ease with him. It didn’t feel like a beginning, but it was the first crack in the walls she'd spent years building, only now it didn't frighten her if it crumbled.
? ? ?
The police department sat at the end of Main Street, a squat brick building whose American flag barely fluttered in the still summer air.
Kara stood outside, her jaw clenched as she watched the door, remembering all the times she’d passed this place without giving it a second thought.
Now, it felt like the center of everything rotten in their town.
Kara didn’t need more convincing that this was the right thing to do.
“Are you sure about this?”
“No,” she admitted. “But we’re doing it anyway.”
The cool whoosh of air conditioning hit them as they stepped inside, the place too quiet for midday. A young officer glanced up from the front desk, who couldn’t have been older than twenty and was almost surprised to see them.
"Can I help you?" he stuttered. “Are you here for Chief Givens?
Kara's mouth went dry. She nearly turned around. Instead, she forced herself to take one more step.
"I..." Her voice caught before she cleared her throat. "Who would be next in charge after the Chief?
The young man took a second to think, then nodded. “Sergeant Vargas is next in command.”
“I need to speak with him.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
“I'm afraid—”
“Tell him I have evidence he'll want to see.” Kara looked down at the file tucked tightly beneath her arm, then she looked back up.
He nodded before disappearing through the secured door.
Kara's pulse thundered in her ears. A familiar panic clawed at her throat. Then she felt Colin's hand. Simply resting lightly against the middle of her back. A steady reminder.
You're not alone.
She closed her eyes for the briefest moment, drawing in a shaky breath. When she opened them again, Colin was standing beside her exactly as he'd promised he would. His shoulders squared. His expression was calm despite the storm she knew they were about to unleash.
When the receptionist returned, his expression had become noticeably more serious.
“The Sergeant will see you now.”
Kara looked at Colin, who gave a small nod. Whatever happened after they walked through those doors, there was no turning back.
Together, they followed the officer down the hallway. He knocked on the door of what seemed to be an even larger office than the Chief’s.
A woman’s voice called from inside, inviting them to come in.
Kara wasn’t sure why she’d expected a man.
The woman who greeted them was striking—not warmly or effortlessly, but in the kind of beauty that commanded attention.
Her sharp features, unwavering gaze, and composed posture gave her a serious, almost stern elegance that made Kara instinctively straighten her shoulders.
Sergeant Lena Vargas didn’t look like someone who bent rules.
She looked like she had little patience for nonsense.
Her expression was carefully schooled into one that revealed nothing.
Which is why Kara trusted her immediately.
Kara glanced around the room—the medals and certificates on the wall, the desk cluttered rather than pristine, nothing like the Chief’s carefully ordered space.
There was a sense of use to it, of work actually being done rather than displayed, she thought as she finally sat.
“You shouldn’t be here, Ms. Nicholl,” Vargas said, closing the door quickly behind them. “If Givens finds out—”
“He already knows I’m digging,” Kara cut in. “So let’s not pretend I’m safe either way.”
Vargas studied her for a long moment, then looked at the stack of files in Kara’s hand. Kara handed over the photos of the ledger and the files. “The ledger was stolen out of my hotel room.”
They watched as she opened the file carefully, flipping it open as her eyes scanned the contents. Vargas let out a quiet breath, eyes looking back and forth as if to size them up.
“We think it's tied to money laundering, or human trafficking, or prostitution.”
“All of the above, I suspect. Couldn’t prove any of it. Every time I got close, something… disappeared.”
“Or someone,” Kara added.
Vargas met her eyes. “Yes.”
With a deep breath, Kara confessed her suspicions about her father to Vargas, relief washing over her as the truth finally left her lips.
Vargas hesitated. “That’s only part of the story.”
“Not the truth?” Kara pressed. “What’s George's part in all this?”
“Your father was a bad guy, but he had muscle that did the most damage.” Vargas said, voice hardening, “He didn’t do his own dirty work.”
“Who?”
Vargas didn’t answer right away. When she did, it felt like the room became unsteady.
Kara blinked. “Uncle Richard?”
“Mad Max. They call him. Your father’s hitman.”
Kara felt dizzy as her thoughts spiraled. She looked at Colin, pained. Uncle Richard had been George’s enforcer—he was the one who drove her father’s car. It might not have been her father at all. She hadn’t seen a face, only the vehicle peeling away into the dark.
“What do we do next?” she asked the Sargeant, her voice sounding much steadier than she felt.
“Leave these with me. We’ll need to build this case properly. We’d all be in trouble if we didn't have enough to prosecute.”
Her gaze lifted. “Where did you get these?”
Colin cleared his throat, leaning slightly forward. “That’s not the point. The point is we have proof of corruption.”
Vargas studied him for a long moment, then looked back to Kara.
“You understand what this means?” Vargas said. “ Once this moves forward, it doesn’t stop. Not for you or for anyone involved.”
“I understand.”
Vargas closed the file with a firm tap. “I’m going to need to move you somewhere safe. If you’re a witness in any of this, you become a target.”
Colin’s posture tightened immediately.
She already was.
“I’ll get her somewhere safe,” he said. “I need her safe.”
They spent the next half hour talking through every possible scenario, building a plan one careful step at a time. No one rushed the conversation. Every decision carried consequences now, and every mistake could cost them more than the investigation.
The priority was obvious.
The files had to leave the precinct.
Keeping them inside the police department was no longer an option.
If someone had gone to such lengths to bury the truth, there was no telling how many people had access to the evidence room—or how many would happily make those files disappear before morning.
Vargas insisted they needed to move everything to a secure location, somewhere beyond the reach of the department and away from the eyes that seemed to be watching everyone connected to the case.
“The longer they stay there,” Vargas said, “The greater the chance they vanish.”
Kara silently nodded. It wasn’t paranoia anymore, especially if evidence always seemed to disappear. She had watched too many coincidences pile up to believe in accidents.
As the briefing continued, Kara found herself struggling to keep up with the scope of everything Vargas was revealing.
She had walked into the meeting believing they were uncovering corruption in a forgotten mountain town. Dirty deputies. A Chief protecting his own. Maybe a handful of officials were looking the other way.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
This stretched far beyond county lines.
According to Vargas, investigators had quietly pieced together fragments of a years-long operation that reached across the state.
Missing evidence, falsified reports, suspicious deaths, and financial records that hinted at organized criminal activity had all begun pointing toward the same network.
Local agencies had failed to make progress, forcing state investigators to take notice.
Eventually, federal authorities had quietly started monitoring the case as well.
Kara leaned back in her chair. “This isn’t just our town anymore,” she murmured.
“No,” Vargas replied. “It stopped being just your town years ago.”
That realization settled heavily over the room. It also explained why so many people had died trying to uncover the truth.
The next revelation surprised Kara even more.
Reece.
She never would have guessed he had been involved.
Vargas explained that Reece had approached her months earlier, quietly offering information in exchange for one thing—justice for King.
“He carried the guilt for a long time,” Vargas said quietly. “Despite his reputation, he cares for his men like they were his own family. Losing one of them so callously never sat right with him.”
She took a breath before continuing.
“He knew things he should’ve reported years ago,” Vargas said.
“But the question was always—who was he supposed to report them to? Everyone he should have been able to reach out to was either involved or looking the other way. Maybe carrying the weight of it became worse than the consequences of trusting someone with the truth.”
Kara remembered every interaction she’d had with Reece, replaying them in her mind. Looking back, the reason he helped her suddenly made sense.
“He reached out through Elias,” Vargas continued.
That had nearly gotten Elias killed.
Investigators believed the men responsible were members of the sheriff’s unofficial enforcement group—a handful of deputies and trusted associates willing to intimidate, threaten, or eliminate anyone who became a problem.
“The guard dogs,” Vargas muttered bitterly. “That’s what we’ve been calling them.”
Those men were still unidentified.
Until they knew exactly who they were, every move they made carried another risk. They couldn’t afford another mistake. One wrong conversation or one familiar face spotting them together could undo everything they had worked toward.
For the first time all evening, Vargas allowed herself a small smile. Unlike before, they finally had something tangible the men responsible couldn’t erase so easily.
Her sudden confidence wasn’t lost on Kara.
Without another word, Vargas excused herself and stepped into the hallway with her phone.
The room fell quiet.
Kara watched through the cracked doorway as Vargas spoke calmly into the receiver, carefully outlining everything they had recovered. Every so often she nodded, replying with a quiet, “Understood,” before glancing down at something on her phone.
The conversation lasted only a few minutes.
When Vargas returned, her expression remained serious, though noticeably more hopeful.
“I’ve updated my contact at the FBI,” she explained. “They’re working on securing a safe house.”
She hesitated before continuing.
“The former Chief. I interviewed him during one of his lucid periods. He remembered more than anyone had expected.”
“The Chief?” Kara asked.
Vargas nodded.
“I have hours of audio recording. It isn’t enough on its own,” Vargas admitted. “Defense attorneys will argue his declining mental state affects his credibility. Even if they don’t, his doctors didn’t believe he’d be medically fit to testify.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Colin said quietly.
A brief silence followed.
Still, the recordings mattered. Combined with everything else they had collected, they helped establish a timeline no one had been able to prove before.
“My contact will call as soon as the safe house is ready,” Vargas said.
She glanced at the watch around her wrist before looking between Kara and Colin.
“Until then, you’ll stay at my place.”
Kara frowned.
“You don’t think it’s safe for us to leave?”
“I don’t think it’s safe for anyone to know where you’re going.”
Vargas picked up her keys from the table.
“The two of you have already been seen together more than I’d like. From this point forward, assume someone is watching.”
Kara understood exactly what they were up against. This was no longer about exposing corruption. It was about surviving long enough to prove it.