Page 28 of Beneath the Surface

“I think Wheeler’s killed twice using methods that looked like accidents. Your father’s brakes failed. Crane was staged as a suicide. Wheeler’s careful. Professional. Which means he plans ahead.” Dax grabbed his keys from the hook by the door, the metal jangling. “So yeah, I’m checking your car.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.” His voice came out harder than intended.

“It’s my car—”

He met her glare head-on. “And you’re a target. You stay here where it’s safe. I’ll go back, check the car, talk to the agents watching your grandmother, and gather some more evidence.” Dax moved toward the door, his hand already on the knob. “You’ve got food in the fridge, firewood if you get cold, and my landline if you need to make calls. Number’s on the wall.”

Her eyebrows nearly reached her hairline. “A landline? What is this, 1995?”

“It’s secure. Can’t be traced or hacked like cell phones.” Dax opened the door, cold air rushing in from outside. “Don’t leave the cabin. Don’t answer the door for anyone but me. And if you see or hear anything suspicious, there’s a shotgun in the closet by the bathroom. Loaded. Safety’s on.”

Quinn’s eyes widened. “You’re just casually mentioning you have a loaded shotgun?”

“Would you prefer I leave you unarmed?”

“I—no, I guess not. I just...” She shook her head, a strand of hair falling across her face. “This is surreal.”

“Welcome to investigative work on a dangerous case. It’s not all Pulitzer prizes and bylines.” Dax paused in the doorway, his hand still on the frame. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Try to get some rest. You look exhausted.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“It’s not an insult. It’s an observation. You’ve been running on adrenaline and fear for days. Eventually, you’ll crash.” Hesoftened his tone slightly, his shoulders dropping a fraction. “This is a safe place to do that. So rest. I’ll handle things.”

He closed the door before she could argue. Heard the locks click as she engaged them—all three, one after another. Good. She was learning.

Dax climbed into his truck and headed back toward Blackridge. The drive gave him time to think. To plan. To process what had happened in the last few hours. His hands gripped the wheel tighter than necessary.

Quinn Barrett had published an article exposing Wheeler. Wheeler had responded with immediate threats and violence. That brick through the window wasn’t just intimidation—it was a message. I know where you are. I can get to you. Stop or die.

Classic escalation pattern. Start with anonymous threats to scare the target. When that doesn’t work, get physical. If that doesn’t work, get lethal.

Wheeler was moving fast. Too fast. Which meant he was worried. Really worried.

Good. Worried people made mistakes.

Dax’s phone rang, the sound cutting through the truck’s quiet cab. Carson.

He answered, pressing the phone to his ear. “Tell me you didn’t just take a witness into protective custody without clearing it with the captain,” Carson said without preamble.

“I took a civilian who was receiving death threats to a secure location. That’s within my authority as an investigating officer.” Dax’s jaw tightened.

“Is it though? Because Captain Holloway just asked me where you are and why there are FBI agents at a civilian’s residence in Blackridge.”

Dax grimaced, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. He’d hoped to keep this quiet a bit longer. “Harper sent them. As a favor.”

“Does Silas know you’ve got his wife running interference for you?” Carson’s tone was more concerned than accusatory.

“He knows. They both want Wheeler stopped as much as we do.”

“Mercer.” Carson’s voice was strained, stretched thin. “You’re going rogue on this. You know that, right? The captain closed the Crane case. He’s going to be furious when he finds out you’re still investigating.”

“Then don’t tell him.”

Carson was quiet for a moment. “Look, I get it. I really do. But Captain already chewed me out once for going off-book on Nora’s case. I’m trying to do better these days.”

“I’m not asking you to make mistakes or lie for me. I’m asking you to give me time. Just long enough to build a case before anyone shuts me down.” Dax turned onto the main road, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “Wheeler’s dirty, Carson. He killed David Barrett. He killed Thomas Crane. And he just tried to intimidate Quinn Barrett into silence. If we don’t stop him, he’ll kill her too.”