Page 47 of Raven's Mark
"It gives us leverage and the Harlan and Alvarez connection, which is more than we had this morning." I keep my voice low enough that it won't carry through the door. "But we still don't have the cartel's operational center. Tomorrow, we figure out how to get both."
She nods, and I can see her already working through tactical approaches, turning over entry points the way she turns over case files: methodical, thorough, looking for the angle nobody else has considered.
The rest of the evening passes in preparation. Raven reviews the Harlan-Alvarez emails in detail, building a chronology and flagging dates that correspond to rancher deaths and property acquisitions. Before the team heads to the Rimrock for the night, we run through preliminary tactical options for the next phase.After they leave, I clean every weapon in the cabin, check the security system around the perimeter, and verify the comms are holding steady.
We eat a quiet dinner at the island without talking about the case, and when we finally go to bed, Raven falls asleep with her back against my chest and my arm across her waist within minutes. Sleep comes easier than it should, given what tomorrow holds.
I wake before dawn and move through the cabin without turning on the lights, checking the perimeter in the gray half-dark before the team arrives. By the time I come back inside, Raven is already up. The coffee is made and her laptops are arranged on the kitchen island with files open and organized, the evidence laid out in the precise sequence of a woman who's spent time planning exactly how she's going to present a murder case to a room full of operators.
Knox and Beckett arrive first, just as the sun clears the eastern hills. Beckett's truck pulls in behind Knox's, and both of my brothers climb out looking sharp and ready. They don't ask questions. They head inside and take positions at the counter the way men do when they already know the conversation is going to be serious.
The team arrives three minutes later in two vehicles. Rook enters first, then Hawk, then Cipher with his laptop bag over one shoulder, then Torque carrying a fresh case of equipment. The group assembles around the kitchen island, and I wait until every man is present and settled before I nod to Cipher.
"Show the footage to Knox and Beckett."
Cipher pulls up the surveillance footage and the room closes in around the screen. Nobody speaks as Tom Pritchard's final twelve minutes play out with a clarity that leaves nothing to interpretation.
When the footage ends, the kitchen holds its silence for a long time.
Knox is the first to speak. "That's premeditated murder on camera."
"Timestamped, GPS-tagged, and preserved across multiple encrypted servers," Cipher confirms. "The cloud backup provider didn't even know the files existed. Harlan deleted the local copies, but he never found these."
Beckett's eyes haven't left the frozen frame of Harlan walking out of the barn, cloth in hand, wiping down surfaces like a man finishing a shift. "This puts Harlan away for life. But on its own, it doesn't connect him to Alvarez or the cartel pipeline."
"Cipher found that connection too." Raven pulls up the next file, her voice steady and precise. "He accessed the Sheriff's Office internal systems. There are emails between Harlan and Alvarez spanning two years. The bulk of the traffic is routine inter-agency correspondence, but underneath that cover, there's an encrypted thread that tells a very different story."
"I broke the encryption." Cipher pulls the relevant emails onto the main screen. "Harlan provides local cover, keeps law enforcement away from the pipeline properties, and handles problems when they arise. Alvarez coordinates transport and distribution through his federal position. The cartel compensates both of them, and the amounts are substantial. Six figures annually, routed through shell accounts."
"What about the IP address?" I look at Cipher. "The deletion of Pritchard's security footage."
"Traced it back to Fredericksburg." Cipher pulls up the log data. "Someone accessed the Blue Ridge account remotely the day after Pritchard's death and wiped everything stored locally. The IP resolves to a location within the county."
"Harlan or Alvarez," Knox says.
"Alvarez was most likely still in El Paso on that date based on the timeline we've established. So the deletion was either Harlan himself or someone operating on his behalf." Cipher pauses. "Either way, it confirms they knew about the cameras and moved to destroy the evidence within twenty-four hours."
My eyes find Beckett. "What did you see yesterday?"
"Cartel activity is accelerating." Beckett leans forward on the counter, his voice carrying the measured urgency of a man who's been watching a situation deteriorate in real time. "I drove past the three ranches I've been monitoring. They're moving equipment out ahead of schedule. Crates, vehicles, staging materials. The pace looks almost panicked, like they're clearing the properties faster than their normal operational tempo allows."
"I saw the same pattern at the western surveillance point," Rook adds. "Patrols are running hotter than the baseline you described. Faster rotations, more personnel, and every one of them scanning the perimeter like they expect contact."
"They think someone is inside their network," Torque says. "That kind of behavior doesn't come from general paranoia. It comes from a specific trigger."
Raven uncrosses her arms and leans forward. "Someone realized we're getting close, and they've accelerated their timeline in response."
"Which means they'll either run or consolidate," Hawk says from his position near the window. "If they run, we lose them. If they consolidate, they'll fortify positions we can't breach without taking significant casualties."
Knox looks at me. "What's the play?"
Before I can answer, Raven speaks.
"We draw them out." Raven's voice is calm and measured, the voice of a woman who's been turning this over and has already made her decision. "They're looking for me. Alvarezknows I'm the key witness against him, and Harlan knows I've been asking questions about the ranches. We use that."
"Use it how?" Beckett's eyes narrow.
"I walk into town. Let myself be seen. Let them take me." Her expression doesn't waver. "They won't kill me immediately. They'll need to know how much I've uncovered and who I've shared it with. That interrogation window gives you time to follow them back to wherever they're operating and take the entire network down at its source."
