Chapter 7

The old mill was exactly as I'd imagined.

Stone walls. Broken windows. A water wheel, long still, creaking in the wind. It sat on the edge of a river, surrounded by forest. Isolated. The perfect place to kill someone.

I walked in alone. The card in my pocket. The wire under my shirt.

Rook was waiting. He stood in the center of the mill, beside a chair. Tied to the chair — Ruth. Her mouth was gagged. Her eyes were wide with fear. When she saw me, she tried to scream.

"Claire," Rook said, smiling. "You came. I knew you would. You're your father's daughter."

"Let her go," I said. My voice was steady. I was proud of that.

Rook tsked. "Not so fast. The card first."

I pulled the micro-SD card from my pocket. I held it up. "Here. Let Ruth go, and it's yours."

Rook laughed. "Do I look stupid? The card. Then the girl."

I hesitated. Then I walked forward. I set the card on a crate between us. Rook's eyes followed it. Greedy. Hungry.

"Now Ruth," I said.

Rook smiled. He pulled a knife. He walked toward Ruth. And I thought — he's going to kill her anyway. He's going to kill both of us.

"Rook," I said. "Why did you kill my father?"

He stopped. He turned. The smile was gone. "Because he was going to destroy everything. Silver Ridge was nothing before me. A charity club. A bunch of boys playing dress-up. I made it powerful. I made it rich. And Daniel — Daniel wanted to throw it all away. For morality. For friendship. For you."

He stepped closer. "You know, he begged. Right here. In this mill. He begged for his life. For his wife. For the baby you were. I shot him anyway. And I watched the light go out of his eyes."

I felt sick. But I kept my voice steady. "You're going to pay for that."

Rook laughed. "Who's going to make me? You?"

That was when the doors burst open. Jack. Jesse. Torres. A dozen federal agents. Guns drawn.

"Rook Kowalski," Torres said. "You're under arrest for the murder of Daniel Carter, kidnapping, drug trafficking, and about fifty other charges. Everything you just said is on tape."

Rook's face went white. He looked at the card. At me. At Ruth. And he realized — he'd been played.

He grabbed the card. He threw it into the river through the broken window. Then he lunged for me — knife raised.

Jesse shot him.

Not to kill. To the shoulder. Rook went down. The knife clattered across the floor. Agents swarmed him. Cuffs. Mirandized. Done.

I ran to Ruth. I untied her. She was shaking, but alive. She held me. She cried.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Claire. I should have told you. I should have —"

"It's okay," I said. "It's over."

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Outside, the river flowed. The card was gone — but it didn't matter. Rook's confession was on tape. The evidence was backed up. Torres had copies.

It was over.