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“What?”
“Miller Johnson is the Godfather of the unit. That sort of infamy has granted him some extra juice with some higher-ups. They wouldn’t fire him when he fucked up so much, but they did move him to another department. The director is bypassing tons of protocols to blatantly have him continue to cover up whatever happened in your town. But if Logan doesn’t play ball, he’s going against a lot of very high-ranking officials who will destroy his career with the FBI.”
I’ve always hated corruption. It’s why I started this journey. No one would do anything.
No one but me.
“You can’t go killing off every member of the FBI who would go against him,” Hadley immediately points out after studying my face.
I don’t see why not.
“Sure I can’t,” I say patronizingly.
I start to leave, but she grabs my elbow. My eyes drop to the contact, and she releases me immediately, some of her fear of me still present.
My eyes meet hers. “What happens when this is all over?” she asks timidly.
“In a perfect world, Logan never knows this side of me. In a more perfect world, Logan learns the truth but understands all of this, despite the fact his moral compass isn’t skewed like mine. But in reality, he may be the one to put me away, because I’d never hurt him, Hadley.”
Her eyes continue searching mine, like she’s actually looking for something in particular.
“The research shows that almost all revenge serials die at the end of their crusade, Lana. Usually suicide by cop, or taken down by cops to save lives, because the revenge is all they focus on.”
“I’m aware of the statistics,” I tell her, keeping my tone and expression devoid of all emotion.
“Don’t you dare make him the one to have to do it if that’s your endgame. Do you hear me? I’ll do it myself before I make him have to live with that,” she warns, reminding me which side of the law she’s used to standing on.
“I’d kill myself before I made him do it,” I say in a rasp tone I can’t mask.
She clears her throat.
“But that’s not your goal? To die and immortalize your message?”
I shake my head slowly, unsure of what I should say.
She visibly relaxes.
“You should know something before going into the pits of hell,” I say, regarding her, watching as her loyalties truly shift to me.
“What?”
“The sheriff? He owns everything in the entire county. You want cable? You can only get it from the local provider—his business. You want internet? He owns the only local provider, and no ‘outsiders’ are allowed to do business there. It gets nasty when they try. You want water? It’s his reservoir that provides it; not the city’s. Not the county’s either. You want food? He owns every grocery store in the county. You want gas? Well, you get the idea. He also owns the hospitals in the county. Hence the reason my brother got us the fuck out of that county, knowing we’d die if it took too long, or die if we stayed in Delaney County. The county is named after Delaney Grove. He had it changed the day he took office, went through all the proper channels to make it official.”
“So you’re saying he holds a monopoly on basically everything but the air, and no one has stopped it?” she asks incredulously.
“I’m saying he has friends up high too, and he makes those friends a lot of money. It’s not just Delaney, Hadley. I just know this one personally. He has his hands in every little pot there is. He’s their boss and their sheriff. To them, he’s untouchable. You won’t find many to turn against him because of that. Especially since he boasts righteousness to cover his sins.”
“Why Delaney?” she asks, confused.
“His ancestors were the original settlers there. His last name might be Cannon, but he came from the most influential originals there were. And he uses that to his advantage, wants to remind everyone how deep his roots are when they stand against him. And Kyle? Kyle’s the monster he created in his image.”
She looks thoughtful for a moment. “Why is Kyle’s last name Davenport instead of Cannon?”
I cock my head. “Because the sheriff wouldn’t ever give Kyle his name. Even his son wasn’t good enough. Only one person ever was.”
“Who?” she asks as I turn, heading toward the door.
“A girl,” I say, looking back as my feet pause. “His daughter. She’s the reason my father was convicted.”
