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Prologue
Columbia, South Carolina
Special Agent Dale Nichols’s hands hovered over the keyboard as the ramifications of his mistake came together.
He’d rushed it. No, that wasn’t true. He’d blown it off, underestimating the source of the intel. He still didn’t understand why she’d brought it straight to him. She had closer friends who could have helped her.
Friends he would have taken more seriously had they delivered the same information.
The hotel desk chair squeaked in protest as Dale leaned back. His eyes on his computer monitor and his palms drumming against the hard plastic armrests, he considered his options.
She’d handed over compelling evidence. He wanted to get into the field and see for himself, but the data was damaging.
Dates and times. Cause and effect. He had to agree that someone in the Department of Natural Resources was abusing their authority and using remote state parks for personal gain.
From dogfighting.
Young and idealistic, Heather Morris of Haleswood, South Carolina had discovered the situation and wanted him to stop it.
Contrary to popular opinion, the FBI didn’t just storm in and rip away cases from local law enforcement agencies on a whim.
But now he had to intervene. In his haste to sort out everything she’d dumped in his hands, he’d managed to expose her as the whistleblower.
Maybe.
Probably.
Like so many things in South Carolina, the DNR was a small, close community. Heather wasn’t the only employee who processed data via telecommuting, but the inquiries he’d been making would lead directly back to her.
Maybe.
He shook his head and leaned forward once more, reviewing the words on the screen. Not maybe. Not even probably. He’d screwed this up.
The name at the head of the list mocked him. Anthony Lester.
If she was right and Lester was involved, then this wasn’t a small group of friends who enjoyed a sickening sort of illegal diversion. Whether Heather realized it or not, she’d stumbled onto a sophisticated, well-financed criminal system. The probable corruption of state officials that would best facilitate the fights gave Dale and the FBI clear jurisdiction.
Just as she’d said when she handed him the jump drive months ago.
He’d planned to call her and say he’d handle it, certain she didn’t realize what she’d uncovered. At first glance, he thought a few calls would do it. Tech support would unravel the money trail and electronic communications. Her brother, a deputy with the Haleswood Sheriff’s Department, could keep an eye on her and keep her out of Lester’s grasp.
Then he’d opened the final document. Read the names she’d decoded. Connected the dots.
He’d screwed up and made her a target.
In the time since Dale joined the South Carolina office, Lester had frequently been an investigation target. But the man remained free thanks to expensive lawyers who twisted facts and intimidated witnesses. This would likely be another crime on the long list they’d never managed to stick to Lester.
Looking at the list of names, Dale felt the tic start in his jaw. He’d had his own suspicions about Lester and the man’s inexhaustible connections. Heather, the most unlikely of sources, had provided potential proof.
Infiltrating the “fight club” would take months. Heather wouldn’t wait much longer. Thanks to his sterling reputation, no one would trust Dale’s sudden interest in illegal entertainments.
As another idea took shape, he weighed the risks against the rewards. The first challenge would be convincing Heather to cooperate. There were a couple ways to play this.
What he was about to propose wouldn’t be easy. Working with civilians never was. And it wouldn’t be safe. But among the limited bad options, it was the best choice available.
For both of them.
Chapter 1
