I knew then the incident must have had something to do with me, and it did. Actually, she was hurt because of me—because for some reason even after I shut up, even after I killed the story, even after I gave everything except that one flash drive to Caleb, it wasn’t enough. I sit there for the longest time with my head in my hands until I’m able to move. Today is the day I get to the bottom of this—Bass needs to come clean.

***

I’m riding as fast as I can, weaving in and out of stopped cars to get to the courthouse. Entering the building, I empty my pockets and walk through the detectors. I announce myself at the reception desk and within five minutes Agent Bass is guiding me down that same f**king hall. She ushers me into the conference room and a fresh wave of panic overtakes me. Why would I get called in at the end of the trial? Is he going free?

“Ben, have a seat,” she says.

“What’s going on?” I stare at her.

She meets my glance head-on. “We couldn’t call you to testify because we couldn’t charge Hart with anything to do with the cartel. We just haven’t been able to link him to the heads of the operation. All the evidence we have is circumstantial and hearsay. He was tried strictly on aggravated assault and battery charges. The court reconvened yesterday and the verdict is in.”

I look at her in disbelief. “Are you f**king kidding me? A pony charge?”

“Ben, look, we’re not giving up. We just can’t find anything solid to link him to the cartel. All we have is the attack on Dahlia London, which isn’t enough. The District Attorney didn’t want to wait, he pushed the case through.”

My ears start to ring and I feel like I’m beginning to hyperventilate. Bass pulls a chair out and this time I sit. After a few minutes I look up at her. “Did Dahl have to testify?”

“No, there was a witness and that was enough.”

Thank, f**k. I’d have hated for her to have to go through that.

“Ben, we need more information. There has to be a connection. Someone had to have contacted Hart when he was first released. We need to figure out who it was.”

My jaw clenches. “You have all I had. Did you ask Jason about it?”

She forms a scowl. “Jason?”

“Jason Holt, Caleb’s brother. He’s a vice detective.”

“No, I haven’t. Should I?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure, but Caleb mentioned him when I brought up the flash drive. I thought maybe you were working together.”

“His name isn’t familiar. I’ll look into it. Ben, are you sure you didn’t keep a copy of anything?”

I slam my hand on the table and stand up. “Yeah, I’m f**king sure.”

We are face-to-face. Her gaze drifts to the folder on the table. “I just had to ask.”

Fury crashes through me. “Are we done?”

She nods. “Yes, but we need you to stay in this jurisdiction.” Her voice is softer this time.

“Right!” My pulse thuds as I turn and walk out the door and down the same f**king hallway for what I hope is the last time.

***

Lingering on the threshold of sanity, I swerve to the right. My hands grip the bars and my heart pounds. Horns honk, but I keep going. I skid to a stop at a traffic light, wishing I had just run it. I’m not sure why I feel such an overwhelming urge to see that son of a bitch get what is due to him. I swerve to the right and turn on La Cienega. The courthouse is only five blocks away but even that seems too far. I park as close as I can. I flash my press pass and surprisingly it works. For once, I’m grateful for my f**king job. I feel a tightness in my chest as I race up the stairs to the courtroom. I file in quietly and have a seat. All I see is his back, but I recognize him immediately—the slick dark hair gives him away.

Glancing around the room, I see Jason sitting in the front row. Confusion descends on me. What the hell is he doing here? How is he connected to all of this? I try a million different ways to put the pieces of the puzzle together but they just don’t fit. Thirty minutes pass and Jason sits there, waiting, like me. Time seems to move so slowly. I wait for the ass**le to turn around but he never does. Finally, the judge enters the courtroom. As the jurors file in, the bailiff asks everyone to rise. The jurors all take their seats in the jury box and we follow.

The judge addresses the jury. “Has the jury reached a verdict?”

The foreperson responds, “Yes, we have, your Honor.”

The bailiff hands the verdict form to the judge as he reads aloud, “As to Count 1, the jury finds the Defendant guilty . . .”

I tune out the rest. Guilty was all I needed to hear. I stand to leave just as he turns. He looks the same—a spray of black bangs over dark round eyes, a slight mustache covering his lip, and a stance like he could never be defeated. I notice the eye contact between him and Jason and know there is something going on. I tense even further at the thought. With my eyes locked on Josh’s, I stay where I am. Fury overtakes his humbled face when he recognizes me. In that instant, he flies into a rage—his eyes turn wild.

He points to me. “You, you did this to me! You took my family from me, you took everything from me!”

Looking around I see an old man and a young, rail-thin woman with long dark hair quietly begging him to be silent. But their pleas go unheard as two armed court officers grab him and drag him out of the room.

But his last words ring in my ears even after he’s left the room, and a shiver rides down my spine.