Several riders looked toward each other.
A stocky man with a scar along his jaw stepped forward.
His patch identified him as Sergeant at Arms.
"Croft?"
Chloe looked between them.
"You know him?"
Jack's expression became stone.
"Deputy Richard Croft?"
"Yes."
The Sergeant at Arms swore.
Jack turned toward the broken Harley.
"Tell me exactly where Pendleton got this."
"A tow company brought it three days ago. They said it came from a ditch off Route 58."
Jack crouched beside the machine.
"Three days."
He examined the frame.
Then the gas tank.
His flashlight stopped on one section.
Too smooth.
Too thick.
Jack pulled a knife.
Chloe immediately stepped backward.
He ignored her.
The knife scraped against the tank.
Rust peeled.
Beneath it was gray filler.
"Bondo," one rider said.
Jack dug deeper.
Chunks fell away.
Then his knife struck metal.
He scraped again.
Something dark appeared.
Jack stopped.
He aimed the flashlight.
Embedded in the steel beneath the filler was a flattened bullet.
Nobody spoke.
Jack touched it.
"Nine millimeter."
The Sergeant at Arms leaned closer.
"Jesus."
Jack's eyes became distant.
Three years of suspicion suddenly had shape.
Preacher had not simply crashed.
The motorcycle had been deliberately altered.
Damage hidden.
VIN removed.
Vest concealed.
Jack looked at Chloe.
"Your stepfather handled Preacher's case."
Chloe swallowed.
"What?"
"Croft was one of the deputies who told us Preacher went over the gorge."
Jack pointed to the bullet.
"This bike never went into any gorge."
Chloe stared.
"He said they never found it."
"Apparently they did."
"What are you saying?"
Jack stood.
"I'm saying somebody hid evidence."
Chloe thought about Richard.
His locked garage.
The nights he disappeared.
Cash he kept hidden in the kitchen.
People arriving at the trailer after midnight.
The way conversations stopped whenever Chloe entered.
She had always assumed corruption meant small things.
Bribes.
Drugs.
Stolen property.
Not murder.
Then an engine appeared in the west.
High and fast.
Jack turned.
Chloe knew the sound immediately.
"No."
Red and blue lights appeared.
Her entire body reacted before her mind did.
She backed away.
"It's him."
Jack looked toward her.
"Richard?"
"Yes."
Chloe's breathing became fast.
"He found me."
Jack glanced at the ninety-six riders behind him.
Then at Chloe.
"Stay behind me."
"You don't understand."
"I understand enough."
"He has a gun."
Jack gave her a tired look.
"So do most cops."
"He'll use it."
Jack's expression hardened.
"Behind me."
The white sheriff's SUV approached fast.
Jack raised a fist.
Every motorcycle headlight went dark.
The desert disappeared.
Chloe moved behind Jack.
Only the broken Harley remained barely visible beneath the distant moonlight.
The SUV skidded to a stop fifty yards away.
Red and blue emergency lights painted the dust.
Richard Croft stepped out.
He was sweating.
His uniform shirt hung open at the collar.
His eyes were bloodshot.
Even from that distance Chloe could smell bourbon.
"CHLOE!"
Her body flinched automatically.
Jack felt it.
Richard advanced.
"You stupid little brat!"
Chloe moved farther behind Jack.
"You thought you could run?"
Richard laughed.
"In my county?"
He aimed his flashlight.
The beam struck Jack.