Page 19 of Beneath the Surface

Perfect. Just perfect.

Dax pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the station. He had files to review, records to subpoena, a case to build. And he had to do it all quietly, without tipping off Wheeler or alerting Captain Holloway that he was ignoring orders to drop it.

His phone rang, vibrating against the passenger seat. He glanced at the screen. Carson.

Dax snatched it up, pressing it to his ear. “Yeah.”

“I’ve got that file you wanted,” Carson said without preamble. “David Barrett’s accident report.”

“And?” Dax’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel, impatient.

“And it’s thin. Investigating officer ruled it an accident within twenty-four hours. Car went off the road on a curve, driver lost control in the rain. No evidence of foul play.”

“Any follow-up investigation?”

“None. Open and shut.”

Because the investigating officer hadn’t been looking for murder. Why would he? Successful accountant dies in a car accident. Tragic, but not suspicious.

Unless you knew he’d been investigating a criminal. Then suddenly it looked very different.

Dax’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding. “Send me everything. I want to see the full report.”

“Mercer, what are you doing?” Carson’s voice carried a warning note.

“My job.” Dax flipped on his turn signal, the rhythmic clicking filling the silence.

“The captain’s not going to like this.”

“The captain doesn’t have to know. Not yet.” Dax turned onto Main Street, his hands tight on the wheel. “Just trust me, okay?”

Carson sighed, the sound crackling through the speaker. “Fine. But when this blows up in your face, I’m saying I warned you.”

“Noted.”

Dax ended the call and tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat. He focused on driving, his eyes scanning the road ahead, his mind already working through the steps. He had a lot of work ahead of him. A murder to prove. A criminal to catch. And a stubborn journalist to keep alive.

Just another day in Blackridge.

But as Dax pulled into the station parking lot, gravel crunching under his tires, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this case was going to change everything. For him. For Quinn Barrett. For the whole damn town. His hands stayed on the wheel even after he’d shifted into park, knuckles white.

Wheeler had gotten away with murder for a decade. He’d built an empire on fraud and blood. He thought he was untouchable.

He was about to learn differently.

Because Dax Mercer didn’t let go. And now he had a partner who was just as stubborn as he was.

God help them both.

But maybe—just maybe—they could actually pull this off. Get justice for David Barrett and Thomas Crane. Stop Wheeler before he killed anyone else.

It was a long shot. Dangerous as hell. Probably going to blow up in their faces.

But it was the right thing to do.

And Dax had never been good at walking away from the right thing.

Even when he should.