PART 6
“Marlene,” he said softly. “Think very carefully.”
She was trembling so badly I thought she might collapse.
But she looked at me.
Then at him.
Then she said the bravest thing I had heard all night.
“No.”
One word.
Tiny.
Shaking.
Enough to crack an empire.
Miller lunged toward her.
I moved.
The cuffs stopped my wrists.
But not my body.
I kicked the table leg hard.
The metal table slammed into Miller’s hip, throwing him off balance.
Henson reached for his weapon.
That was when the first red dot appeared on his chest.
Then another landed on Miller’s shirt.
Then another on the wall behind Deputy Ellis.
The room froze.
Outside, tires crushed gravel.
Engines surrounded the building.
A voice thundered through a speaker.
“Sheriff Boyd Miller, this is a federal tactical unit. Put your hands where we can see them.”
Henson’s face drained.
“What the hell is this?”
I looked at him.
“My witnesses.”
The sheriff slowly turned toward the window.
Through the blinds, red laser dots swept across the room like judgment.
Black armored vehicles filled the parking lot.
Men in tactical gear moved with rifles trained and discipline sharp enough to cut bone.
Not local cops.
Not county deputies.
A joint federal-military task force.
And on the roof of Higgins Diner across the street, a sniper unit had every corrupt man in that office measured down to the breath.
Miller’s hand twitched toward his gun.
“Don’t,” I said.
His eyes snapped to me.
For the first time all night, he finally asked the right question.
“Who are you?”
May you like
I smiled.
Then the front door blew open.
