Page 44 of Beneath the Surface

“Make sure it stays that way. Personal involvement compromises investigations. I don’t need to tell you that.”

He didn’t need to hear the words to know he was referring to Carson and Nora. Their relationship and how it’d come about had been subject to gossip from the whole department. It was no surprise there were whispers about him now, but Dax’s personal life was his own. He didn’t care what anyone had to say, because he knew the truth.

“No, sir. You don’t.” The words came out harder than intended.

Holloway studied him for another long moment, his eyes searching Dax’s face. Then he nodded slowly. “Two weeks. Give me regular updates. And watch your back. If Wheeler’s willing to kill civilians, he won’t hesitate to go after a cop.”

“Noted.” Dax stood, the chair scraping against the floor.

Dax left the office feeling both relieved and frustrated, his shoulders tight with tension. He had two weeks. Fourteen days to build a case solid enough to take down James Wheeler.

It wasn’t enough time. But it would have to be.

Carson caught up with him in the parking lot, falling into step beside him. “How’d it go?”

“I’m not fired. Yet.”

“That’s good?” Carson’s tone was cautious.

“It’s something.” Dax unlocked his truck, the beep loud in the morning air. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Another one? Mercer, I’ve already stuck my neck out for you—”

“I need everything we have on Clara Mendez. DMV records, last known address, employment history. Everything.” Dax pulled open the door, the hinges creaking.

Carson sighed, his breath visible in the cool air. “She’s the witness from Barrett’s files?”

“Yeah. She knew something about Wheeler’s operation. David Barrett was helping her relocate when he died. She disappeared right after.”

“You think she’s still alive?”

“I think if she’s not, that’s one more murder to pin on Wheeler.” Dax started the truck, the engine rumbling to life. “I’m going to find her. One way or another.”

“And if Wheeler finds out you’re looking for her?”

“Then he’ll make another mistake. And I’ll be there to catch it.” Dax’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Carson shook his head, stepping back from the truck. “You’re either the bravest cop I know or the stupidest.”

“Probably both.”

Dax pulled out of the parking lot and headed back toward the cabin, his jaw tight. He had work to do. Files to review. Witnesses to track down. A case to build.

But more importantly, he had Quinn to get back to. To make sure she was safe. To make sure she hadn’t tried to escape again.

Not because he was getting personally involved. Just because she was a witness under his protection.

That’s what he told himself anyway.

The drive back felt longer than usual. Dax found himself checking his phone every few minutes, the screen lighting up in his peripheral vision, making sure Quinn hadn’t called. Making sure everything was okay.

She was fine. Of course she was fine. The cabin was secure. No one knew where it was. She was safe.

But the anxiety didn’t ease until he pulled up the driveway and saw the cabin intact, exactly as he’d left it. No signs of disturbance. No broken windows or forced doors. His shoulders finally dropped, tension releasing.

He unlocked the front door and stepped inside, the familiar creak of the hinges almost comforting.

Quinn was on the couch, surrounded by papers that covered nearly every surface. Her laptop was open—his laptop, actually, that he’d left for her. She looked up when he entered, pushing hair back from her face, those amber eyes bright with focus.