Beverly ended the call.
Outside, she saw the transport vehicle.
Deputy Miller sat behind the wheel.
A man Beverly didn’t recognize occupied the passenger seat.
Broad shoulders.
Civilian clothing.
An expression devoid of curiosity or concern.
Beverly knew immediately that something was wrong.
The vehicle did not head toward Phoenix.
She tracked the direction by the sun and road signs.
They were traveling south.
Deeper into the desert.
As Desert Springs disappeared behind them, Beverly understood that Stone had changed strategies.
Legal intimidation had failed.
Now he intended to make her disappear.
At the same time, Stone began the second part of his damage-control plan.
He personally led several patrol vehicles toward Martha Williams’s small house on Cactus Street.
Martha had been expecting him.
She had lived in Desert Springs long enough to recognize the sound of approaching trouble.
Stone walked to the front door with Davis and two deputies.
His knock was almost polite.
“Martha, we need to talk.”
“Sheriff Stone,” she called through the screen door, “unless you have a warrant, I don’t believe we have anything to discuss.”
“Martha, I think you’ve been talking to people you shouldn’t be talking to.”
Stone’s voice stayed pleasant.
“Spreading stories that could hurt innocent people.”
Martha opened the screen and stepped onto the porch.
“I’ve been telling the truth.”
Stone stared at her.
“About what I’ve seen.”
She didn’t look away.
“About what you’ve been doing in this town for thirty years.”
Stone’s expression hardened.
“Martha, you’re an older woman living alone.”
He lowered his voice.
“This can be a dangerous world.”
“Accidents happen.”
“Houses burn.”
“People get hurt.”
Martha tilted her head.
“Is that a threat, Sheriff?”
“It’s a concerned neighbor looking after your welfare.”
Martha smiled without humor.
“I may be old, Duncan, but I’m not stupid.”
She held up her phone.
“And I’m not defenseless.”
Stone’s eyes narrowed.
“This conversation is being streamed to my granddaughter in Phoenix.”
Martha kept the phone raised.
“She works in the legal field.”
“She understands what witness intimidation sounds like.”
Stone’s mask slipped.
“Martha, you are making a serious mistake.”
“The only mistake I made was staying quiet for thirty years.”
She looked directly at him.
“While you turned my town into your private kingdom.”
Stone gestured toward his deputies.
They began spreading out around the property.
Then smoke rose from behind Martha’s house.
Stone spun toward it.
“What the hell?”
“Old paper burns quickly,” Martha said calmly.
“Especially copies of thirty years of photographs, notes, and records.”
Stone stared.
“Of course, if any of that evidence was important to you, you could try to retrieve it.”
Stone understood immediately.
Martha had forced him into a public contradiction.
If he rushed to preserve documents he claimed didn’t exist, he revealed their importance.
If he allowed them to burn, he lost whatever originals he believed Martha possessed.
Either way, his control was slipping.
Meanwhile, Beverly’s transport vehicle turned from the highway onto a dirt road leading deeper into the Sonoran Desert.
Beverly had been tracking distance and direction.