Nolan moved to cuff me, but I didn’t step back. Instead, I stepped directly into his personal space, forcing him to look up into my eyes.
“Nolan,” I said quietly, the tone meant only for him. “You’re sweating. Your hands are shaking. You didn’t sign up for murder, did you?”
He froze. His partner was a few feet away, distracted by a passing doctor.
“Shut up and turn around,” Nolan hissed, but there was no conviction in it.
“I have the drive, Nolan,” I whispered, watching his pupils dilate in pure panic. “It has the soil reports. The bank transfers. The environmental hazard warnings that Travis buried. Federal crimes. When the FBI rolls into this town, Mercer is going to throw you under the bus to save his son. You know he will.”
Nolan’s jaw clenched. He looked at the handcuffs in his hands like they were suddenly burning him.
“You can arrest me right now,” I continued. “And go down as an accomplice to attempted murder and domestic terrorism. Or, you can walk into that room with me, and we can figure out a way for you to keep your pension and your freedom.”
Nolan stared at me for three agonizing seconds. The hospital intercom hummed. The smell of bleach felt overpowering.
Slowly, he lowered the handcuffs. He turned to his partner. “Hey, Smitty. Go secure the perimeter downstairs. I’m going to do the preliminary interview in here.”
Smitty grunted, clearly bored, and walked toward the elevators.
Nolan followed me into Emily’s room. Brenda the nurse was huddled in the corner, clutching a magazine like a shield. Emily looked up at me, her eyes wide with fear.
“It’s okay, Em,” I said, locking the heavy wooden door behind us.
I pulled out my encrypted military laptop from my duffel bag, plugged in the USB, and bypassed the basic encryption Emily had set up. The files populated on the screen. It was worse than I thought. Emails from Travis directing the dumping of hexavalent chromium into the soil near the town’s water supply. Payoffs to local judges. And forged deeds for the properties they stole to cover the dumping ground.
I looked at Nolan. He was staring at the screen, all the color drained from his face.
“He… he told us it was just standard eminent domain disputes,” Nolan stammered, sinking into a chair. “He never said anything about poison. My sister lives near that aquifer.”
“He played you, Nolan,” I said coldly. “Now, you work for me.”
I pulled out my phone. I didn’t call the local FBI field office. I called the direct line of my task force commander at the Defense Criminal Investigative Service in D.C. I explained the situation in under two minutes.
“We need absolute proof of extortion to tie Travis directly to the assault and the cover-up in a way his father can’t sweep under a rug,” my commander said through the earpiece. “Can you get him on tape admitting to the hit and the blackmail?”
I looked at the clock. It was 3:00 AM. Five hours until the Sheriff’s deadline to burn down my in-laws’ house.
“I can do better than tape,” I said. “I can give you a live feed.”
I hung up and turned to Nolan. “I need you to clear the adjacent hospital room. Tell the night staff it’s a police matter. Then, I need you to leave the side door connecting the two rooms unlocked.”
Nolan nodded dumbly, eager to be on the winning side of a federal indictment.
Then, I took a deep breath, channeled every ounce of fear and desperation I had felt over the last twenty-four hours, and dialed Travis Mercer’s cell phone.
He answered on the fourth ring, sounding groggy but smug. “Well? Have you learned how to tell time, soldier?”
I didn’t speak right away. I let out a jagged, hyperventilating breath. I let my voice crack.
“Travis… please,” I begged. I sounded pathetic. Broken. “Please don’t hurt her parents. I have it. I have the drive.”
Silence on the other end. Then, a low chuckle. “I knew you weren’t as tough as you looked. Where are you?”
“I’m at the hospital. Room 312. I haven’t looked at it. I don’t care what’s on it. Just take it and leave us alone. I’ll sign whatever NDAs you want. Just… please. Call off your dad.”
“Smart boy,” Travis sneered. “Make sure you’re alone. If I see a single fed, I make a phone call, and your in-laws wake up to a very hot morning.”
“I’m alone,” I sobbed, making myself sound utterly defeated. “Just come get it.”
I hung up and looked at Emily. She was staring at me, a fierce, proud light burning through the pain in her eyes. She knew exactly what I was doing.
I walked over to the connecting door to the adjacent room. It was cracked open an inch. Through the gap, I saw the sleek tactical gear of six federal agents who had slipped in through the service elevator Nolan had secured. The lens of a high-definition camera was pointed directly through the crack, aimed right at the center of Emily’s room.
The trap was set.
At exactly 4:15 AM, the handle of Emily’s hospital room door slowly turned.
The lights in the room were dim. Travis walked in, wearing an expensive leather jacket, looking around with a paranoid glint in his eye. He closed the heavy door behind him and locked the deadbolt.
He turned to face me. He held out his left hand for the drive.
But it was what was in his right hand that made my blood freeze.
He had pulled a syringe from his pocket. The exact same kind Brenda had been carrying.
“You did good, Blake,” Travis whispered, stepping closer to Emily’s bed, his eyes locked on her IV tube. “But my dad always says… you can never leave loose ends.”
Chapter 5: The Reckoning
I was five thousand miles from home when a nurse called me sobbing and said, “Blake… they broke both of your wife’s legs.” Then a man took the phone from her, laughed, and whispered, “Come do something about it, soldier. My father owns the police.” Fourteen hours later, I landed on American soil—and two sheriff’s cruisers were already waiting for me.
Part 4 of 5
