It was the first meal he had eaten in a place where nobody was going to take the food away.
Grim watched him.
He thought about Sarah.
About Rosie.
About Ethan.
And about the second plate.
For more than twenty years, he had kept that place at his table for someone who was never coming back.
A son.
A door that had closed twenty-three years earlier.
A choice Grim still regretted.
Millie had once asked him why he kept ordering the plate.
He never had a good answer.
Maybe Ethan had found one.
Maybe the plate wasn't really about grief.
Maybe it was about keeping a place open.
Morning arrived.
Grim hadn't slept.
At 6:47, his federal contact called.
The USB had been copied.
A judge had signed warrants.
Clay's accounts had been frozen.
The investigation was moving.
Grim should have felt relief.
Instead, he felt something else.
Because men like Clay were most dangerous when they realized they were losing.
He called Marco.
Sarah and the children were safe.
They had slept.
Millie's sister had made pancakes.
Rosie had eaten four.
Grim finally breathed.
Then the phone rang again.
A woman named Patricia Guerrero lived near Clay's property.
She had video.
She had heard Clay say where he was going.
Laughlin.
Sarah.
Grim's blood went cold.
Clay was coming for them.
He called Marco.
“Move.”
Then he looked at Danny.
They were already moving.
Five Minutes
Grim and Danny rode to Laughlin.
They made the trip in forty-four minutes.
The federal agents were twenty minutes behind them.
Clay was fifteen minutes away.
Five minutes.
That was what Grim had.
Marco met them on foot.
Sarah and the children were hiding at the home of a woman named Carol, a friend of Millie's sister.
Carol had taken them in without asking questions.
Clay did not know the exact house.
That gave Grim an advantage.
But not enough.
Grim looked down the street.
Then he made a decision.
“I’m going to the main road.”
Danny stared at him.
“You’re using yourself as bait.”
“I’m redirecting his focus.”
“What's the difference?”
“I’m choosing it.”
Grim walked into the street.
He waited.
Forty seconds later, Clay Mercer appeared.
Two men were with him.
Clay stopped.
He smiled.
“You're a long way from your diner.”
“So are you.”
Clay stepped out.
He told Grim that one USB drive wasn't enough to destroy what he had built.
Grim disagreed.
Clay's accounts were frozen.
His men were talking.
The federal government was moving.
And the evidence contained seven names.
Clay's smile disappeared.
“Where is she?”
“Gone.”
“She can't just be—”
“She is.”
Grim looked at him.
“You have about ninety seconds before this street fills with federal agents.”
Clay's two men began exchanging looks.
Then came the sirens.
The men walked away.
Clay stood alone.
For the first time, he looked like what he actually was.
Not a king.
Not untouchable.
Just a man who had run out of options.
“I want a lawyer,” Clay said.
Grim nodded.
“That’s the first intelligent thing you've said tonight.”
Federal vehicles arrived from both directions.
Clay raised his hands.
The nightmare was over.