“The thing about small towns,” Martha finally said, meeting Beverly’s eyes, “is that people notice things.”
She paused.
“Some of us have been noticing for a very long time.”
Beverly understood.
Martha wasn’t simply another resident.
She was a potential witness.
Someone who had been documenting Stone’s operation for years.
“If someone hypothetically had evidence,” Beverly said carefully, “would that person be willing to share it with the right authorities?”
Martha smiled grimly.
“If the right authorities could guarantee protection and justice, that person might be very interested.”
Two hours later, Beverly received permission for a second phone call.
The guard brought her to the same grimy handset.
This time Stone stood nearby, making no attempt to hide the fact that he intended to listen.
Beverly dialed the FBI Phoenix Field Office.
Special Agent Rodriguez answered.
“Rodriguez.”
“Sir, this is Beverly Shaw. I need to report a situation.”
“Shaw.”
His voice became carefully neutral.
“Where are you calling from?”
“Desert Springs Police Department.”
Beverly chose her words deliberately.
“I’ve been arrested on false charges, and my investigation has been compromised.”
There was a short pause.
“What’s your current status?”
“I’m being held on a possession charge.”
Beverly looked toward Stone.
“Sir, I need immediate backup and legal representation. The situation here is significantly more complex than our original assessment.”
Rodriguez hesitated.
“Agent Shaw, are you certain about that assessment?”
Beverly took a breath.
It was time to activate an emergency signal she hoped she would never need.
“Sir, the weather conditions have deteriorated significantly.”
Stone watched her.
“I’m requesting immediate implementation of the emergency extraction protocol.”
There was another pause.
Rodriguez understood that Beverly wasn’t merely asking for assistance.
She was telling him her life might be in danger.
“Understood,” he finally said. “Maintain your position and await further contact.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Beverly hung up.
She turned toward Stone.
“Feel better?” he asked with mock concern.
“I’ve notified my superiors. Representation will be coming.”
Stone nodded thoughtfully.
“Agent Shaw, you have touching faith in bureaucracy.”
He smiled.
“You’re about to discover how slowly bureaucracy can move when the right people want it to.”
As Beverly was escorted back toward the holding cell, she clung to one hope.
That Rodriguez had understood what she was telling him.
Because if federal backup failed, she was alone in a town where federal law apparently meant very little.
An hour later, Beverly was brought back to Stone’s office.
This time the sheriff looked almost celebratory.
An expensive bottle of whiskey sat open on his desk.
“Agent Shaw, I thought you might appreciate understanding exactly what you stumbled into before your colleagues arrive.”
Beverly said nothing.
Stone poured himself a drink.
He gestured toward a map of Arizona mounted on the wall.
Red pins marked locations throughout the southern part of the state.
“Thirty years.”
Stone admired the map.
“Thirty years of building something extraordinary.”
He pointed to one location.
“We started small.”
“Certain vehicles passed certain checkpoints, and our people simply didn’t notice.”
He moved his finger across the map.
“But real vision requires thinking bigger.”
Stone began identifying pieces of the network.
Patterson Ranch for storage and distribution.
Remote landing areas.
Processing operations disguised as agricultural businesses.
Contacts stretching from Desert Springs toward Phoenix and beyond.