Page 123 of Silent Bones

Noah studied Mack's face, seeing the fear beneath the bravado. The man was genuinely terrified of someone, and that someone had enough power to order executions and reach into secure facilities.

"One more question, Mack. Off the record. Was it Luther Ashford who gave you the orders?"

Mack's face went pale. "I'm not saying."

"You don't have to say his name. Just nod if I'm right."

A long pause. Then, barely perceptible, Mack nodded.

Noah felt his pulse quicken. Finally, after all this time, he had a connection between Luther and the murders. Not admissible in court, not recorded, but enough to know he was on the right track.

"I'll have to make some calls," Noah said, standing up. "State prosecutor, protection for you on the inside. It might take a day or two, but I believe I can make this happen. You're doing the right thing, Mack."

As Noah gathered his files and headed for the door, Mack called after him.

"Detective? Make it fast. I don't think I have much time."

Noah paused at the door, looking back at the man who might finally give him Luther Ashford. "We'll keep you safe."

But even as he said it, Noah wondered if that was a promise he could keep.

Five hours later,Noah sat across from his daughter Mia at a corner table in Morrison's Diner, watching her work through a stack of pancakes while he picked at his club sandwich. The lunch crowd was thinning out, and the afternoon sun slanted through the windows, casting everything in a warm, golden light that made the morning's interview seem like something from another world.

"So we're really going camping in a couple of days?" Mia asked, cutting another bite of pancake.

"That's the plan. Ed's going to meet us at the campsite around dinner time. Says he's got some new Sasquatch calls to teach you and Ethan."

Mia grinned. "Think we'll actually hear one this time?"

"After everything that's happened the past few weeks, I'm not sure I want to encounter any more monsters in the woods."

"Dad, you know Bigfoot isn't real, right?"

Noah smiled, thinking about the very human monsters he'd spent his career chasing. "Yeah, sweetheart. I know."

His phone rang, interrupting the moment. McKenzie's name appeared on the screen.

"Sorry, honey, I have to take this." Noah answered the call. "What's up?"

McKenzie's voice was tight, professional, but Noah could hear the underlying tension. "Noah, we've got a problem. Mack's dead."

The words hit like a physical blow. Noah felt the diner fade around him, his daughter's concerned face blurring as the implications crashed over him.

"But I saw him this morning. What happened?"

"Found him in his cell about an hour ago. Slashed wrists, bled out. Looks like suicide."

"Bullshit." The word came out louder than Noah intended, and several other diners turned to look. He lowered his voice. "Wasn't anyone watching him?"

"That's the thing. Shift change happened right around the time it must have occurred. And the cameras..."

"Let me guess. Malfunctioned."

"Complete system failure for exactly forty-seven minutes. Just long enough."

Noah closed his eyes, feeling the case slip away from him like water through his fingers. "This is Epstein-level bullshit, Mac."

"I know. But the evidence is what it is. Suicide note and everything, confessing to the murders but not naming any accomplices."