They were nowhere near Phoenix.
Through the barrier separating the rear compartment from the front seats, she heard Deputy Miller make a short radio transmission.
Someone answered that they were expected.
The vehicle continued toward an isolated ranch compound.
At first it looked abandoned.
Then Beverly began noticing details.
Fresh tire tracks.
Security cameras.
Industrial ventilation.
Signs of recent vehicle traffic.
This wasn’t an abandoned ranch.
It was one of Stone’s operational centers.
The vehicle stopped beside the largest building.
The civilian passenger stepped out.
When he opened Beverly’s door, she noticed the outline of a concealed weapon beneath his jacket.
“End of the line, Agent Shaw.”
Beverly was escorted toward the structure.
The closer they came, the clearer the scale became.
Multiple buildings.
Security systems.
Industrial equipment.
An incineration stack behind one structure.
She understood that this was more than a storage site.
It was the heart of Stone’s operation.
Sheriff Stone was waiting inside.
Gone was the polished public official from the police station.
Here, surrounded by contraband and armed employees, he looked completely comfortable.
“Agent Shaw.”
He spread his arms.
“Welcome to the real Desert Springs Police Department.”
The warehouse stretched far beyond what Beverly had expected.
Sections had been organized for processing, packaging, storage, and distribution.
Workers moved with the efficiency of people who had repeated the same tasks hundreds of times.
Stone watched Beverly absorb the scale.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
He gestured around him.
“Thirty years of planning.”
He pointed toward different sections.
“Product arrives here.”
“It’s processed and packaged.”
“Then it moves through a distribution network reaching multiple states.”
Beverly understood the significance of what she was seeing.
Stone’s earlier statements had been damaging.
This was confirmation.
Physical infrastructure.
Personnel.
Inventory.
Records.
And Stone was walking her through all of it because he believed she would never leave alive.
Stone moved deeper into the facility.
“The beauty of the operation is legitimacy.”
He indicated several business names displayed on manifests and computer terminals.
“Real ranches.”
“Real trucking companies.”
“Real private aviation.”
“Businesses with legitimate customers doing legitimate work.”
He smiled.
“And underneath it, everything else.”
They stopped near a terminal displaying financial records.
“Our gross last year was fifty-seven million dollars.”
Stone looked almost proud.
“Net profit after expenses was roughly thirty-eight million.”
“Expenses?” Beverly asked.
She wanted him talking.
“Transportation.”
“Labor.”
“Security.”
He looked directly at her.
“Bribes.”
Beverly waited.
“You don’t run something this large without treating government like another operating cost.”
Stone began naming categories.