Page 70 of Logan’s Way

“Through official channels?”

“Some information came through official channels. Some came through other means.”

“What other means?”

This was the moment he could implicate Logan. Could explain that his brother had been the missing person, that Logan had been operating as a vigilante, that the entire investigation had led to confronting someone who’d chosen to stay permanently outside the system.

The panel waited. The silence stretched.

“I’d prefer not to answer that question,” Angus said finally.

Calloway’s eyebrows rose. “You understand that refusal to answer could be grounds for termination?”

“I understand that.”

“And you’re refusing anyway.”

“The information isn’t relevant to whether I can function within departmental guidelines going forward. It’s relevant to other people’s privacy, and I’m not willing to violate that privacy, even to help my own case.”

Kovak leaned forward. “Sheriff Reid, we’re not asking you to incriminate anyone. We need you to explain your investigation’s methodology so we can determine whether it followed acceptable protocols.”

“It didn’t follow acceptable protocols in several instances. I’ve already acknowledged that. The specific sources and methods I used don’t change that.”

Another silence. Longer this time. Carol wrote something in her notes. Calloway opened his folder, reviewed its contents, and closed it again.

“Sheriff Reid,” Calloway said, “you’ve been honest about violating policy. You haven’t tried to justify those violations by citing outcomes. And you’ve refused to provide information that might explain the context of your choices. That makes our decision more difficult.”

“I understand.”

“Do you want to keep your job?”

The question was direct, almost harsh. Angus met Calloway’s eyes.

“Yes. But not if keeping it requires becoming someone who acts without accountability. If this panel determines I can’t function within the system, I’d rather lose the position than pretend I can operate within boundaries I’ll violate the next time circumstances demand it.”

Calloway sat back, something that looked like respect flickering across his features.

“That’s either the most honest answer I’ve heard in twenty years of administrative reviews,” he said slowly, “or the most self-destructive.”

“It’s just the truth.”

Carol closed her notepad. “Sheriff Reid, please step outside while the panel deliberates. We’ll call you back when a decision has been reached.”

Angus stood, nodded to the panel, and stepped into the hallway, where fluorescent lights hummed and morning traffic sounds filtered up from the street below.

He found a bench near the elevators and sat, hands clasped between his knees, his mind quiet. The hearing had gone exactly as it could—honest accounting without justification, acknowledgment without defense, truth spoken plainly regardless of consequence.

Now the waiting.

Twenty-five minutes passed. Then thirty. Angus watched people move through the hallway on various administrative errands, their Monday mornings occupied with tasks that didn’t include deciding whether their careers were over.

At forty-three minutes, Carol opened the conference room door and motioned for him to return.

The panel’s expressions were unreadable as Angus took his seat again. Calloway had the folder open. Kovak’s hands were folded on the table. Carol’s pen was capped, her notepad closed.

“Sheriff Reid,” Calloway began, “this panel has reviewed your testimony along with the documented evidence of policy violations during your leave of absence. We’ve also considered your service record prior to this incident, which shows consistent professionalism and effective leadership.”

He paused, consulting the open folder.