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"I think he's involved," I said, tapping the map. "But we need proof. Check out these locations, talk to people, and keep it discreet. We don't want to spook him."
They nodded, splitting into teams and heading out. I watched them go, a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. We were closing in, but the danger was escalating. I just hoped we could get to the bottom of this before anyone else got hurt.
The ride home after work was long and quiet. The adrenaline from the attempt on my life had faded, leaving behind a dull throb of exhaustion. I navigated the familiar streets of Silver Creek, but tonight, everything felt different. Shadows seemed darker, noises sharper. It was as if the town itself was holding its breath, waiting for the next move.
I pulled up to my house and sat in the truck for a moment, staring at the darkened windows. Normally, this place was my sanctuary, but now, it felt exposed. Vulnerable. I grabbed my gun and stepped out, scanning the surroundings before heading inside.
The silence inside was oppressive. I locked the door behind me and leaned against it, closing my eyes for a second. Heather's worried face flashed in my mind. She trusted me to keep her safe, but how could I do that when I couldn't even protect myself?
I shook off the thought and moved to the kitchen, needing something to ground me. The fridge buzzed quietly as I opened it, grabbing a beer. I popped the cap and took a long drink, letting the cold liquid chase away some of the lingering tension.
Sitting at the kitchen table, I spread out the notes and files I'd brought home. The connection to Tom Halverson was staring me in the face, but something about it felt too convenient. Halverson was an asshole, no doubt, but was he smart enough to run a drug ring this intricate?
The more I dug, the more it felt like the roots of this thing ran deeper than I'd anticipated. Silver Creek was a small town, but there were places even I hadn't looked closely at. Businesses that seemed legit on the surface but had ties to known criminals. People who had been here for years, blending in, building trust.
Halverson was involved; I was sure of it. But who else? I needed to follow the money and see where it led.
The night stretched on as I worked, piecing together bits of information, making calls, and taking notes. By the time I finally crashed on the couch, it was past midnight, and my head was spinning with half-formed theories and unanswered questions.
I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating on the coffee table. Groaning, I sat up and grabbed it, blinking at the screen. A text from one of the deputies: "Got a lead. Meet me at the station."
I rubbed my eyes and stood, my back protesting from the awkward position I'd slept in. After a quick shower and a strong cup of coffee, I was back in the truck, heading to the station. The town was waking up around me, but all I could think about was the lead. Maybe this would be the break we needed.
The deputy was waiting outside when I arrived, looking impatient. "What's up?" I asked, stepping out of the truck.
"Found something interesting," he said, handing me a file. "One of Halverson's businesses has been making large cash deposits recently. Too large for what they should be pulling in."
I flipped through the documents, my pulse quickening. "This is good. If we can link this to the drugs, we've got him."
"There's more," he said, glancing around. "I did some digging on one of the employees. Guy named Ricky. He's got a record—drug possession, distribution. Might be worth talking to him."
"Good work," I said, feeling a flicker of hope. "Let's pay Ricky a visit."
Ricky's place was on the outskirts of town, a run-down apartment complex that had seen better days. We knocked on the door, and a minute later, a wiry guy with bloodshot eyes and a suspicious glare opened it.
"What do you want?" he snapped, eyeing our badges.
"Just a few questions," I said, pushing the door open a bit more. "Mind if we come in?"
He hesitated but stepped aside. The apartment was a mess—empty beer cans, dirty clothes, and the faint smell of something sour. Ricky slumped into a chair, glaring at us.
"Look, I don't know nothing," he said before we could even start.
"Sure you do," I said, pulling up a chair. "Let's talk about Halverson. You've been making some nice deposits lately. Where's the money coming from?"
He shifted, his eyes darting around the room. "Just a side gig. Landscaping."
"Landscaping, huh?" I leaned in, my voice hard. "You think I'm stupid? We know about the drugs, Ricky. You can either help us, or you can go down with Halverson."
His face went pale, and he swallowed hard. "I don't know much, I swear. Halverson runs the show. I just do what he says."
"What does he say?" I pressed.
"Pick up packages, make deliveries. That's it. I don't ask questions."
"Where do you pick up the packages?" the deputy asked.
"Different places. Sometimes the old mill, sometimes the warehouse by the tracks. It changes."
