Chapter 9 - The Crown Room

Nora Rourke asked for a lawyer before she gave another full sentence.

That was her right.

It was also frustrating.

By evening, federal agents had recovered twelve partially burned boxes from the Crown Room.

The contents explained why Arthur Sterling had survived twenty-two years in power.

He had not relied only on loyalty.

He had collected leverage.

Photographs of county supervisors with mistresses.

Tax records showing unpaid income.

Copies of confidential juvenile files.

Audio of businessmen offering bribes.

Medical information.

Divorce filings.

Illegal gambling debts.

Even disciplinary records belonging to deputies.

"He didn't run a sheriff's office," Marcus said. "He ran a blackmail exchange."

Torres looked through a box wearing gloves.

"And he kept originals."

Rachel stood beside him with her injured wrist in a brace.

"Evan said Arthur knew everyone's weakest point."

Marcus looked at her.

"Did he know yours?"

She nodded.

"You."

Marcus went quiet.

"Flynn told me if I stopped helping, you'd be the next accident."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you would've confronted him."

"Maybe."

Rachel gave him a look.

"Definitely."

He sighed.

"Fair."

At the hospital, Jessi listened while I described what agents had found.

"Arthur ordered it," she said.

It was not a question.

"According to Nora."

"Do you believe her?"

"I believe she thinks saying it helps her."

Jessi stared at her hands.

"I remember Flynn getting the call."

"You didn't tell us that."

"I didn't remember clearly until now."

"What call?"

She closed her eyes.

"Before they started. Bennett said, 'Your dad says this is too far.' Flynn walked away and called someone. Then he came back furious. He said, 'He changed his mind.'"

I felt cold.

"Can you identify Arthur's voice?"

"I didn't hear the other side."

"Then don't force it."

"Luca."

"What?"

"Stop protecting me from my own memory."

I sat down.

"I'm trying not to make it worse."

"You can't make it worse by asking."

"I can if I ask like an investigator instead of your husband."

She looked at me for a long moment.

"Then ask like my husband."

I took her hand.

"What do you remember?"

Her voice shook.

"Flynn was scared before the call. Angry after it. He said, 'Fine. We make her forget she ever saw a map.' Bennett said, 'Arthur wants no body.' Flynn laughed and said, 'Then she lives.'"

I had to look away.

Jessi tightened her fingers around mine.

"Stay here."

"I'm here."

"No. Look at me."

I did.

"I survived," she said. "Don't turn what they did into the only thing you see when you look at me."

My throat closed.

"I don't."

"Sometimes you do."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

She breathed slowly.

"I need you to see me as the person who hid the recordings, not just the person they hurt."

I nodded.

"You're the person who beat them before they knew there was a fight."

That earned a small smile.

"Better."

Torres arrived an hour later with news.

Nora's attorney had negotiated a limited proffer.

"She admits stealing access through Nathan's token," Torres said. "She admits passing route information to Sterling and paying consultants to influence environmental reviews. She admits using North River to move money."

"Does she admit knowing Arthur planned violence?" I asked.

"She says she knew intimidation occurred but claims she never approved physical attacks."

Jessi laughed bitterly.

"Convenient."

"Very."

"And Flynn's recording?"

"Nora heard it once. Flynn played part of it for her after your assault."

"What did Arthur say?"

Torres looked at Jessi.

"According to Nora: 'Break the case, not the woman. If she won't give it up, make sure she can't walk into court this month.'"

The room went silent.

Jessi's face drained of color.

I stood so quickly my chair scraped.

Torres held my gaze.

"Luca."

I walked to the window.

"I'm not doing anything."

"Good."

"I'm allowed to stand."

"Yes."

Behind me, Jessi whispered, "He said that?"

Torres's voice softened.

"Nora says he did. We still need the recording."

Jessi turned her face away.

I wanted to go to her.

I waited until she reached for me.

Then I sat beside her again.

"Find it," she said.

Torres nodded.

"We will."

Nora gave them one more piece.

Flynn kept a duplicate archive on a waterproof drive hidden inside a place he called Saint Christopher.

Nobody knew what that meant.

Rachel did.

"His boat," she said when Torres called. "Flynn has a forty-foot cabin cruiser named Saint Christopher at Lake Marrow."

Marcus frowned.

"He hates boats."

"That's why he thinks nobody pays attention to it."

A search warrant was approved.

The marina slip was empty.

Saint Christopher had left before dawn.

But Lake Marrow did not connect to the ocean.

Flynn could not flee the country by boat.

"Then he isn't escaping," I said.

Torres looked at the lake map.

"He's moving evidence."

Rachel pointed to a narrow inlet on the western shore.

"Sterling owns land here. Old quarry access."

Marcus leaned closer.

"There's a maintenance road to Clay Ridge."

"And the private airstrip is on the other side," Torres said.

The plan became clear.

Flynn had moved the drive by water to avoid road surveillance.

Then he intended to cross Sterling land to a flight point federal agents were no longer watching closely after the failed departure.

Torres deployed teams to the inlet and the airstrip.

I was not allowed to go.

This time I didn't argue.

I stayed with Jessi while we listened to updates through Keller.

At 10:41 p.m., Saint Christopher appeared on thermal imaging approaching the quarry inlet.

At 10:46, two figures left the boat.

Flynn Sterling.

Deputy Carl Bennett.

They carried one duffel bag and a hard black case.

At 10:48, federal agents ordered them to stop.

Bennett dropped his bag and raised his hands.

Flynn ran.

He disappeared between quarry buildings.

A helicopter tracked him toward the ridge.

Then the thermal image vanished beneath dense tree cover.

Keller listened to his radio.

"He's moving north."

"Toward the airstrip?" Jessi asked.

"Looks like it."

Minutes passed.

Then a gunshot came over the radio.

I stood.

Keller held up a hand.

"Agents okay."

Another update.

"Shot came from Flynn. Nobody hit."

Jessi squeezed my hand.

At 10:57, agents found Flynn's abandoned jacket and pistol beside a drainage ditch.

At 11:04, the helicopter spotted movement near a service road.

At 11:09, a black county SUV appeared from the opposite direction.

It stopped beside Flynn.

Flynn climbed in.

The SUV turned south.

Marcus's voice came over Keller's phone.

"Plate?"

An agent read it.

Marcus swore.

"That's Arthur's command vehicle."

Sheriff Sterling himself had come to retrieve his son.

Torres ordered units to intercept.

The SUV accelerated.

For six miles, Arthur Sterling led federal agents down a mountain road he had patrolled for two decades.

Then he turned onto private timber land.

The pursuit stopped at a locked steel gate because the road beyond narrowed into terrain unsafe at speed.

A helicopter stayed overhead.

The SUV continued toward an old fire lookout tower.

Then stopped.

Two heat signatures exited.

One moved toward the tower.

The other toward the trees.

"They're splitting," Keller said.

Jessi whispered, "Arthur and Flynn."

Within minutes, agents surrounded the area.

Bennett, already in custody, offered to cooperate.

He told Torres the lookout tower contained an emergency radio and a buried storage cache.

"What's in the cache?" she asked.

Bennett looked sick.

"Passports. Cash. Guns."

"Whose?"

"Arthur's."

"And Flynn?"

"Arthur never planned to take Flynn with him."

Torres stared.

"Explain."

Bennett swallowed.

"Arthur told me years ago, if Flynn ever became the thing that could bury him, Flynn would have an accident too."

At the ridge, agents found Flynn first.

He was crouched behind a fallen tree, bleeding from a cut on his forehead, unarmed.

He surrendered immediately.

His first demand was not for a lawyer.

It was for protection from his father.

Arthur remained inside the fire tower.

Negotiators called his phone.

He refused to answer.

Then Flynn made an offer.

"Tell them I have the recording," he said.

Torres, on speaker with Keller, asked, "Where?"

Flynn smiled through blood.

"Safe place."

"Your boat?"

His smile disappeared.

"You found that?"

"We found a lot."

Flynn looked toward the tower.

"Then tell my father I made three copies."

"Why?"

"Because he'll come out."

Torres studied him.

"Or he'll kill himself."

Flynn laughed weakly.

"Arthur Sterling doesn't love anyone enough to die. Not even himself."

The message was relayed.

Five minutes later, the tower door opened.

Sheriff Arthur Sterling stepped out with both hands visible.

For the first time in twenty-two years, he stood in Harrington County without the power to decide what happened next.

Federal agents put him on his knees.

They removed his badge.

They handcuffed him.

And when Torres asked where Flynn's recording was, Arthur looked toward his son and said only one thing.

"You ungrateful little bastard."

Flynn smiled.

"There he is."

Bennett's surrender also produced one detail Marcus had waited a year to hear.

"Did Evan know he was going to die?" Marcus asked him through Torres.

Bennett shook his head. "No. Flynn only meant to scare him and take the notebook."

Rachel's voice turned cold. "That does not make it better."

"I know."

"No," she said. "You know it makes your plea deal better. That's different."

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Bennett lowered his eyes.

Marcus said nothing more. He simply reached for Rachel's hand, and she let him hold it.