Page 56 of Torgash

I push open my office door and freeze.

Royce Carvello sits behind my desk like he owns it, expensive suit immaculate despite the early hour. He's reading through a case file—one of the foreclosure documents I'd left there yesterday for appearance's sake.

"Good morning, Sheriff." His smile is warm, friendly, and fake. "I hope you slept well. You certainly sounded like you were having a good time last night."

My blood chills. He heard us. Has been listening to us. The surveillance of my apartment wasn't just visual—they've been recording everything.

"Mr. Carvello." I keep my voice level, controlled, though my hand moves instinctively toward my sidearm. "You're trespassing."

"Am I?" He gestures to the chair across from him—my own chair, in my own office. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."

"I'll stand."

"Suit yourself." He closes the file and leans back, studying me. "Quite a night you had. Very... passionate. I particularly enjoyed the part where Mr. Thornshade promised to find Carman’s killer."

Carman's name in his mouth makes my fists clench."I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please, Sheriff. We both know your apartment has been under surveillance for weeks. Audio and visual. Very high quality equipment." His tone stays conversational. "I have to say, you're much more vocal than I expected. And Mr. Thornshade is certainly... thorough in his attentions."

My jaw clenches, but I force myself to remain still. "What do you want?"

"To make you an offer. A generous one, considering the circumstances." He opens a desk drawer—my desk drawer—and pulls out a manila folder. "Derek Sullivan. Current address, employment records, daily routine. Everything you'd need to find him."

My heart stops. "That's not possible."

"Oh, but it is. You see, unlike Mr. Thornshade, I don't make promises I can't keep." Royce slides the folder across thedesk. "Derek's been living in Jacksonville under the name David Martinez. Works at a marina, lives alone in a studio apartment above a bait shop. Very isolated. Very... accessible."

I stare at the folder without touching it. "Why?"

"Because I can deliver what your lover cannot. Justice for your sister. Real justice, not the kind that takes years and might never come." His voice drops. "I can put Derek in a room with you, Sheriff. Just you and him, and all the time you need to get answers. And when you're finished—when you've done whatever you feel needs doing—I'll make it all disappear. Accident at the marina. Tragic drowning. You'll never be connected to it."

Everything I've wanted for years. Right here.

"What's the catch?"

"Hardly a catch. More of a... adjustment to your current investigative priorities." Royce straightens his tie. "You continue being sheriff. You still meet with families, still fight for justice, still play the part of the incorruptible law woman. You just do it a bit more slowly. And under my guidance."

"You want me to be your puppet."

"I want you to be reasonable. The families you're helping—they'll still get help. Just not in ways that interfere with legitimate business interests." His smile never wavers. "Everyone wins."

"And if I refuse?"

"Nothing dramatic. No threats, no violence." He shrugs. "Just some interesting evidence surfacing at your next court hearing. Photos of you entering the MC clubhouse. Audio recordings from this office. Documentation of your intimate relationship with their vice president."

My face goes cold. "You're blackmailing me."

"I'm offering you choices." He stands, smoothing his jacket. "How do you think Judge Kellerman will react when he discovers the sheriff building cases in his courtroom has beencompromised by personal relationships? How will the families you're trying to help feel when they learn you've been playing both sides?"

"I haven't been—"

"Haven't you?" His voice turns cold. "You've been working out of an MC facility. Using their resources. Sleeping with their leadership. Any case you've built becomes tainted evidence the moment that comes to light."

He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a cell phone, setting it on my desk beside the folder. "When you're ready, call the first number in the contacts. I'll take care of the rest."

Royce moves toward the door, then pauses. "Oh, and Sheriff? Don't take too long deciding. Every breath Derek takes is another moment he stole from your sister, and opportunities like this don't last forever."

The door closes behind him with quiet finality, leaving me alone with the folder and the phone and the weight of an impossible choice.

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