Page 12 of Logan’s Way

“How’s it going?” Murphy asked quietly. “The search.”

“Complicated.” Angus managed a tired smile. “But I’m making progress. I think.”

Murphy’s expression showed she heard everything he wasn’t saying. She stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and pulled him into a hug that was warm and solid, exactly what he needed without realizing it. Angus wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin briefly on the top of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo mixed with the antiseptic she never quite washed away from the morgue.

“You don’t have to tell me everything,” she murmured against his chest. “But don’t carry it alone too long.”

“I won’t.” He meant it, mostly.

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, then kissed him—brief and warm, a reminder that whatever he was chasing didn’t have to be done in isolation. When she stepped away, her hand lingered in his for a moment.

“Go home. Get some rest. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here.”

Scout pressed against his leg again, ready to go. Angus squeezed Murphy’s hand, then walked with the dog back to the truck. When he looked in the rearview mirror, she was still standing on the porch, silhouetted by the light from inside.

At home, Angus fed Scout and made himself eat something that tasted like cardboard. His mind was already elsewhere, sorting through what he knew and what he still needed to understand. The documents had told him that Logan’s death was manufactured. Now he needed to know why someone had gone to that trouble.

What had Logan been involved in that required official erasure?

Angus sat at his kitchen table with his laptop and a legal pad, Scout settling at his feet. He’d been chasing paper trails and signatures and filing protocols. But documents were just reflections of actions. If he wanted to understand what had happened to Logan, he needed to look at consequences instead of records.

He needed a different approach.

He needed to find the ripples.

Angus opened his laptop and pulled up the missing persons database he still had access to through the sheriff’s office network. He wasn’t looking for Logan directly—that file had been his constant companion for eighteen years. Now he looked for patterns. Cases from Las Vegas and the surrounding Nevada counties. Cases from the time period when Logan disappeared. Cases that had ended in ways that didn’t quite make sense.

He started with Las Vegas Metro Police records, then expanded to state databases. Open cases, cold cases, unexplained disappearances from the years around Logan’s vanishing.

The results populated slowly—dozens of files, each representing someone who’d vanished or died under circumstances that left questions unanswered. Angus began reading through them methodically, looking for anomalies. Deaths ruled accidental that seemed too convenient. Disappearances that aligned with ongoing investigations. Outcomes that suggested intervention rather than coincidence.

Three hours later, he found one that made him stop.

Marcus Volk. Known associate of trafficking networks operating through Las Vegas and the Southwest corridor. Subject of an FBI investigation that had been building for years. Multiple warrants for assault, intimidation, and conspiracy to traffic minors across state lines.

Volk had vanished from a motel outside Henderson. His vehicle was found abandoned at a rest stop along I-15. No signs of struggle. No witnesses. No body.

The case was still technically open, but the file notes suggested it had gone cold within weeks. Last entry was years old: “No new leads. Subject presumed to have fled jurisdiction or to be deceased. Investigation suspended pending new information.”

Angus read through the file twice, paying attention to what wasn’t there as much as what was. No follow-up interviews after the first month. No forensic analysis of the vehicle beyond basic processing. The investigation had simply…stopped. Like someone had decided Volk’s disappearance didn’t merit continued resources.

Like someone had decided Volk’s disappearance was the best possible outcome.

Angus pulled up the related case files—the trafficking investigation Volk had been a part of. FBI jurisdiction, multi-agency task force. The operation was disrupted when Volk disappeared. His network had fractured. Several victims were recovered in the weeks following his vanishing. The lead investigator’s notes mentioned that sources had become more willing to cooperate once Volk was no longer a threat.

The case was considered a success, even though they never found Volk.

Angus sat back, Scout’s warmth against his ankle steadying him. The dates didn't line up the way Angus expected. Marcus Volk had disappeared years after Logan vanished—long after Angus had accepted that his brother was either dead or lost to somewhere unreachable. Long enough that connecting the two felt like a stretch rather than a lead. Which made the connection harder to dismiss, not easier. It could be coincidence.

Except Angus had stopped believing in coincidences about three days ago.

He pulled up news archives from that year, searching for any mention of Volk’s disappearance. Found a brief article in the Las Vegas Review-Journal: “Local Man Missing, Foul Play Suspected.” The article was thin on details but mentioned that Volk had connections to organized crime and that his disappearance was under investigation.

Then, a few weeks later, a follow-up: “Missing Man’s Vehicle Found, No Body Recovered.” After that—nothing. The story had simply faded from coverage, replaced by other news, other concerns.

Angus thought about the file Murphy had shown him. The autopsy discrepancies. The body that had been buried as Logan but wasn’t. The careful manipulation of records to make a living person officially dead.

If someone had gone to that trouble for Logan, what kind of life would require that level of protection?