"I'm a nurse."
"Wonderful."
Clara handed him the first-aid box.
"Be useful."
He smiled.
Daniel needed stitches near his eyebrow.
Miguel's ribs were bruised.
Marcus had a badly swollen eye.
Nathan had abrasions around his wrists.
Nothing immediately life-threatening.
Clara wanted to call an ambulance.
Daniel stopped her.
"No."
She stared.
"You're injured."
"We can't involve local law enforcement yet."
"That's suspicious."
"I know."
"Are you criminals?"
Miguel nearly choked on water.
Daniel actually smiled.
"Depends who's asking."
"Me."
"No."
"Ever been arrested?"
Daniel hesitated.
"Yes."
Clara pointed.
"Then don't get clever."
Daniel nodded.
"Twenty years ago. Bar fight."
"Better."
She sat on an overturned bucket.
"Now explain why four supposedly respectable men were chained to my garage for two days."
The men exchanged looks.
Daniel spoke first.
They had attended a memorial ride in Nebraska.
An old friend named Wesley Cole had died in a motorcycle accident the previous winter.
The ride raised money for Wesley's widow and teenage son.
Almost $480,000.
Clara's eyebrows rose.
"From motorcycles?"
"Six chapters. Donations. Businesses."
"And?"
"The money was supposed to be deposited into the memorial foundation account Monday morning."
Daniel looked toward Marcus.
"Marcus transported the documentation and donation records."
Clara asked:
"Documentation?"
Miguel answered.
"Receipts. Pledges. Bank drafts. A physical ledger."
Clara frowned.
"Why not digital?"
"Most was."
Daniel continued:
"But Wesley's son is involved in a legal fight over his father's estate."
"So?"
"There are records proving certain money belongs to the foundation, not the estate."
Clara understood enough.
"Somebody wanted the paperwork."
"Yes."
"Who?"
Daniel's face hardened.
"Another motorcycle group."
"Enemies?"
"No."
That answer surprised her.
"They used to ride with us."
Years earlier, a faction split from Iron Creek and formed a club called the Black Canyon Riders.
The relationship had been tense but mostly nonviolent.
Until recently.
Their president, Cole Vance, believed the memorial fund should support injured riders generally rather than Wesley's family.
The Iron Creek board disagreed.
Clara stared.
"You chained four men to a building over charity money?"
Daniel shook his head.
"It's worse."
The Black Canyon leadership had allegedly been skimming donations from previous charity events.
Wesley's records contained evidence.
Invoices.
False repair expenses.
Payments to shell companies.
Marcus had copied everything.
Clara leaned back.
"So this isn't about one argument."
"No."
"It's theft."
"Potentially hundreds of thousands over several years."
Clara looked toward the road.
"Who knows you're here?"
"Nobody from our club."
"Phones?"
"Taken."
"Motorcycles?"
"Gone."
Clara's expression hardened.
"Who brought you here?"
Daniel hesitated.
"A man named Cole Vance."
"And?"
"A deputy sheriff."
That changed everything.
Clara knew every deputy in the county.
Or thought she did.
"Name."
Daniel said:
"Bryce Keller."
Clara's heart sank.
Deputy Bryce Keller had eaten dinner in her kitchen.
He had known Henry for twenty years.
And suddenly, Clara understood why these men did not want police.
Clara locked the garage doors.
Then she did something she had not done since Henry died.
She climbed into the office loft and pulled the cover from his old shortwave radio.
Henry had loved radios.
When mobile phone coverage was bad, ranchers and truckers around the county still used them.
More importantly, Henry had belonged to a volunteer search-and-rescue network.
Clara knew the frequencies.
Daniel stood below.
"What are you doing?"
"Finding somebody who isn't Deputy Keller."
"Who?"
"A federal park ranger named Elise Monroe."
Daniel frowned.
"Why her?"
"Because she hates Bryce Keller."
That was not entirely true.
Elise didn't hate Bryce.
She distrusted him.
Three years earlier, a missing hiker case had been mishandled because Keller ignored search protocols.
Elise had nearly filed a formal complaint.
Henry knew.
Clara knew.
Small towns stored information like barns stored dust.
She tuned the radio.
Called twice.
No response.
Third time:
"Whitmore Station, identify."
Clara exhaled.
"Elise?"
Pause.
"Clara?"
"Yes."
"It's been months."
"I need help."
The tone changed instantly.
"What happened?"
Clara looked at Daniel.
Then made a decision.
"Come alone."
"Clara—"
"Alone."
"Why?"
"Because there's four injured men in Henry's garage telling me Deputy Keller helped kidnap them."
Silence.
Then:
"I'll be there in forty minutes."
Elise arrived in thirty-two.
No uniform.
Jeans.
Green jacket.
Service pistol concealed.
She walked around back.
Stopped when she saw the men.
Daniel raised his hands.
"Before you ask, yes, this looks bad."
Elise looked at Clara.
"You cut them loose?"
"Obviously."
Elise closed her eyes.
"Of course you did."
She listened.
Asked precise questions.
Times.
Vehicles.
Locations.
Descriptions.
What Keller said.
Whether he wore uniform.
Whether he used county equipment.
Daniel described a white sheriff's department SUV.
Elise's face tightened.
"County Unit Seven."
"You know it?"
"Keller's assigned vehicle."
Clara whispered:
"Damn."
Elise stepped outside to make calls.
Not local dispatch.
State investigators.
Then she returned.
"We need to move you."
Daniel shook his head.
"No."
"Why?"
"Marcus hid a copy of the ledger before we were taken."
Everyone looked at Marcus.
Clara said:
"You forgot to mention that."
Marcus smiled weakly.
"Was waiting to see who trusted who."
"Where?"
"Inside my motorcycle."
Elise asked:
"Which is where?"
"Vance's people took it."
Daniel swore.
Marcus continued:
"But there's a backup."
"Where?"
Marcus looked at Clara.
"Here."
She blinked.
"What?"
"When they brought us in, they searched everything."
He looked toward the rear wall.
"But Sunday night, before they chained us, one guy dropped my jacket."
"I slipped a memory card into a crack behind the drainpipe."
Clara stood.
"You're telling me evidence of major theft has been sitting inside my wall for two days?"
"Yes."
"Henry would've charged storage."
They found it fourteen minutes later.