LINE OF SIGHT, LINE OF FIRE

Sheriff Lawson stood fifteen feet away under the flickering amber light of a temporary construction lamp. His uniform shirt was soaked with sweat, his service revolver pointed directly at Maya's chest. His breathing was fast and shallow, the panicked respiration of a man who had realized the safety net beneath him had vanished.

"Give me the laptop," Lawson stammered, his voice tight and unstable. "Put it down on the gravel, Maya. You don't know what you've done. You've ruined everything."

Toby stepped between the sheriff's gun and Maya, his face hard with exhaustion and contempt. "It's already gone, Lawson. The ledger went out five minutes ago. Your name is on the bank statements. Every kickback you took from Apex since 2021 is on the front page of every major newspaper server in the country."

"Shut up!" Lawson yelled, his finger spasming against the trigger guard. "I can fix it! I can tell them Donovan forced my hand! But I need that machine! I need to show I recovered the evidence!"

"You're not recovering anything," Vance said, stepping out from the shadow of the trailer, holding Donovan’s satellite phone in her hand. "I called the state patrol five minutes ago from Donovan’s line. They have our GPS coordinates. They're on the bridge right now."

Above them on the interstate overpass, the distant sound of dual-tone sirens began to build—not the local municipal wail, but the low, authoritative horn of the state highway patrol. Blue and red lights flickered along the concrete sound barriers overhead, sweeping across the dark trees.

Lawson looked up, his face contorting into sheer terror. "No... no, they can't be here already."

"Drop the weapon, Sheriff," Toby said, taking a deliberate step forward. "It's over."

Lawson looked back at Toby, his eyes wide and bloodshot. The realization of total ruin washed over him. He lowered the barrel of his revolver by two inches, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

Suddenly, Donovan groaned from inside the wrecked Mercedes. The corrupt executive scrambled out through the shattered windshield, dragging himself across the gravel toward Lawson's legs.

"Shoot them, Lawson!" Donovan shrieked, spitting blood. "Shoot them all! We can still claim they ambushed us! I'll pay you ten million! Shoot them!"

Lawson looked down at Donovan, then back at Toby, his hand trembling so violently the gun nearly slipped from his fingers. The siren horns grew deafening, echoing down from the off-ramp two hundred yards away. Headlight beams cut through the brush, pinning Lawson and Donovan in an unavoidable web of white light.

Emilio, lying on the gravel, let out a faint, mocking laugh from the dirt. "Look at them... masters of the universe... begging in the mud."

Lawson slowly raised his hands, letting his service revolver slip from his fingers to clatter harmlessly onto the wet gravel. He sank to his knees beside the groaning executive, staring blankly into the headlights sweeping toward them.

Toby turned back to Emilio, dropping to one knee beside the dying hitman. "Emilio, hang on. The paramedics are right behind them."

Emilio looked toward the highway lights, his dark eyes slowly losing their sharp, predatory edge. "Tell me, Toby... did the girl... get the ledger out?"

"Every word of it," Toby said.