A pause. I was the one who tipped you off tonight on the road.
I called ahead to the diner anonymously. Everything in the parking lot became extremely still.
Grim took one slow step forward. You were tracking us, not to hurt you.
I swear to God. I tracked you to warn you.
There's a roadblock going up on 93 northbound. Clay called it in as a stolen vehicle report, giving his deputy friend a reason to stop any bikes coming out of this area tonight.
Grim studied the young man's face. He had learned over many years to read the specific texture of a lie versus the specific texture of fear.
And this was fear, pure and uncomplicated. Why are you telling me this?
Grim said. Jesse's jaw worked for a moment because I've been working for Clay for two years and I've seen things I can't.
He stopped, breathed, started again. There's a girl.
She went missing 8 months ago. 19 Years old from Bullhead City.
Clay said she took off on her own. I know she didn't.
His voice cracked on the last word just slightly and he pressed his lips together hard. I know because I was there the night she didn't.
Nobody in the parking lot moved. You were a witness, Grim said.
I was more than a witness. Jesse's voice had gone hollow, and I've been trying to figure out what to do about that for eight months, and I can't live with it anymore.
I can't. He reached into his jacket.
Marco's hand moved. Easy, Jesse said immediately, his hand coming out, slow fingers spread wide, holding a USB drive, small, black, completely ordinary looking.
I've been collecting this for 6 months. Every file I could get my hands on.
Wire transfer records, recordings. I had a recording app on my phone.
I recorded everything I could. Names, dates, badge numbers, bank account numbers, all of it.
He held the drive out toward Grim. There are seven women, not one.
Seven going back four years. The drizzle fell.
Grim looked at the drive. He had walked into this evening expecting to do one thing.
Get a woman out of a trailer. Simple, contained, finite, the kind of thing that begins and ends in the same night.
What he was looking at now was something that didn't begin or end anywhere near tonight. What he was looking at was a thread that if you pulled it would unravel something that went much deeper and much wider than one trailer and one violent man and one corrupt deputy.
He took the drive. How long before Clay knows you're gone?
He said he'll notice I'm not at my post in maybe an hour, hour and a half. Is there anywhere safe you can go?