Dutch exhaled.
“Probably smart.”
That almost made her laugh, which felt absurd.
He looked toward Sullivan being placed in a state vehicle outside.
“Bear's alive.”
Chloe swallowed.
“Good.”
“He might wake up.”
“I hope he does.”
Dutch nodded.
Then turned away.
He stopped at the door.
“Chloe.”
She froze.
He had never asked her name.
Pete must have said it earlier.
Or someone outside.
She did not know.
“Yeah?”
“If something belongs to somebody else, returning it before fear turns it into a bigger problem is usually the best move.”
Then he walked out.
Chloe stood motionless.
Pete stared at her.
“What was that about?”
“I don't know.”
But she did.
Maybe.
Her hands were shaking again.
She reached beneath the counter for her purse.
The ring was still wrapped inside.
Outside, Dutch's Harley stood near the diner porch.
Chloe could see its saddlebags.
She had an impulse.
A desperate, foolish impulse to get rid of the ring without ever admitting she had possessed it.
She almost followed it.
Then she stopped herself.
Jackson's plan.
Her own fear.
The morning's lies.
All of it had already created enough danger.
She had just watched a deputy begin destroying his own life because he kept stacking one lie on another.
Chloe suddenly understood that hiding the ring somewhere would only create a second trail of uncertainty.
She needed a witness.
She needed the truth documented.
She stepped outside.
“Sheriff?”
Miller turned.
He looked exhausted.
“What?”
“I need to tell you something.”
Dutch, several feet away, looked over.
Chloe's hands went cold.
She opened her purse.
Slowly.
Nobody moved.
She removed the shop towel.
Unwrapped it.
The heavy winged-skull ring rested in her palm.
Every biker within sight seemed to notice at once.
Dutch became completely still.
Miller stared.
Pete whispered from the doorway, “Oh, Chloe.”
Chloe's voice shook.
“I found this last night.”
Dutch stepped toward her.
Miller lifted a hand.
“Stay there.”
Dutch stopped.
Chloe continued quickly.
“In the diner parking lot. Where Bear's motorcycle was parked. I found it around two in the morning when I took the trash out.”
Dutch's face revealed nothing.
“I took it home because I thought he'd dropped it.”
“Why didn't you say that this morning?”
“Because then you told me he'd been attacked.”
Her eyes filled.
“And I thought you'd think I had something to do with it.”
Dutch said nothing.
“My brother told me to return it.”
“How?”
“We didn't know.”
“Police?”
“He told me not to involve anyone until we knew what happened.”
Miller asked, “Did your brother touch it?”
“Only pushed it with a screwdriver. I wrapped it after.”
Miller nodded.
“Good.”
Chloe looked at Dutch.
“I didn't steal it.”
Dutch studied her.
She forced herself not to look away.
“I believe you.”