Page 59 of Home Town Knight

My fingers smoothed over his chest. “Glad I met you too, Owen Douglas. And I’m glad I was wrong about you.”

“Same here. I was certainly not expecting you.”

Suddenly I felt vulnerable. A little too exposed. Maybe it was myunemployedstatus catching up to me, or having a killer after me. But I suspected it was just Owen. I could’vemade a joke to break this intense mood, but I didn’t want that. I wasn’t the kind of woman who let fear control her.

Sometimes, the wiser choice was to run. But not from him. Owen had proved he didn’t deserve that. He’d entrusted me with his secrets, but I had yet to fully trust him with mine.

“My source is a white-hat hacker,” I said.

Owen looked down at me with a hand resting on my belly. “I guessed it was something like that.”

“I know, but there’s a lot more I can tell you. I’ve been working with him for a few years, since shortly after I published that article clearing my father’s name and implicating the cops who scapegoated him. After that story, I started getting anonymous messages. Tips about corruption in Colorado, documents to back it up. His info always panned out as authentic. After a while, my source told me his hacker handle and that he lives somewhere in the western United States.”

“You’re not going to tell me it’s River, are you? He only moved to Hartley a few months ago. He was East Coast before.”

I laughed. “No, I’m sure it’s not River. I’ve spoken to this guy on the phone a couple of times. He’s just someone who wants to use his skills for good. But here’s how it connects to you.” I sat up higher. Owen put his arm around me, and I snuggled into him. “Last year, I wrote a couple of stories about your department and that huge scandal involving the Rigsbys and their criminal conspiracy. And then Dawson Witkins.”

“I remember.”

“Right. So, my source recently sent me an encrypted message asking to chat. That’s how he operates. He surfaces when he has something for me. He and his hacker friends had uncovered a trove of documents on the dark web about agroup called Stillwater. They operate as brokers for the worst kinds of bad guys. Connecting hit men with clients. Human traffickers with buyers for their victims. They’re involved in money laundering, bribing officials, you name it. All over the American southwest.”

His arm tightened on me. “I’ve never heard of Stillwater.”

“Hardly anyone has. They have a Latin motto, probably because it’s extra creepy, but it also functions as a passphrase to show you’re in the know. Roughly translates to,the deepest water is the quietest.”

“Still waters run deep?”

“That’s the gist of it.” There was more I could tell him about Stillwater, but then we’d be here far longer than one hour. This was the quick version.

“Did your source and his friends send this evidence to the government?”

“No way. My source is basically an anarchist. He doesn’t want the attention of the NSA or FBI. He doesn’t trust government. At any level.” Owen was frowning, but I went on. “When we talked, my source sent me bank account information showing payments Stillwater had transferred to a corrupt government official in Colorado.”

“What? Did they get names?”

“No, that’s exactly the problem. The accounts are all offshore. All anonymous. But Stillwater has detailed accounting records. My source and his friends spent thousands of hours pouring over all those databases and documents, piecing it together as best they could. They found payments to other officials around the country as well. But the specific payments I’m talking about? Stillwater had marked them as going toward an official in Colorado for services rendered.”

“And you thought it was an official in Hart County. Namely,me.” He’d seen where I was going with this. “Why?”

I turned to face him. “Because of links to other entries in Stillwater’s records, which my source cross-referenced to whatever he could find on other criminal operations. He found ties to the Rigsby family’s illegal enterprise here in Hartley. Stillwater helped them make deals with interested parties. And to Dawson Witkins, the human trafficking cult leader. Stillwater connected Witkins to other traffickers to exchange teenage girls.”

“You’re serious?” Owen murmured. “How did I not know this?”

“Because Stillwater makes every effort to stay secret. They operate on the dark web and their digital trails are so complex it’s hard to make sense of them or trace it back to who’s really in charge. Stillwater goes way beyond Hart County, beyond Colorado, paying off officials and brokering nefarious activities in hundreds of other cities and towns throughout the region. Maybe thousands. I don’t have access to that much of the data.”

“Sounds like mafia.”

“Kind of, sure. But unlike the mob, Stillwater doesn’t run the criminal rings themselves. Stillwater is more like a bunch of lawyers, accountants, consultants. Helping the criminals take their business to the next level.” I shook my head, disgusted, even though I was speaking sarcastically about it. “Because I’m based in Colorado, my source passed the info on Hart County to me. He was hoping I could keep investigating on the ground. That’s what I came here to do the first chance I got. Try to expose the culprit. This official is one small cog in the larger operation, but it’s a start.” I tucked my head against his neck. “Didn’t think I’d get sidetracked with a murder. Or with a sexy sheriff who defied every assumption I’d made.”

“Can I see the evidence your source provided?”

“Yes. I keep it safe. I’ll send it to you with a secure datatransfer service. But I don’t have any other leads at the moment.”

“If it’s all right with you, I’ll share the info with River and the Protectors.”

I lifted my head. “Protectors?” He’d said that like an official title. “Is that what they call themselves?”

Owen pressed his lips together, realizing his slip. “The Last Refuge Protectors. Aiden came up with the name.”

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