“I never told you it was taken off him.”
Sullivan swallowed.
“You said property.”
“No.”
Dutch shook his head.
“I said a club ring was missing after Bear was found.”
Sullivan tried to recover.
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Dutch stepped closer.
“We don't know if it was taken from him.”
The sergeant-at-arms added, “Could've been dropped here.”
Chloe's heart nearly stopped.
Dutch's eyes remained on Sullivan.
“How did you know somebody went through his things?”
Sullivan backed up half a step.
“I've seen robbery cases.”
Miller looked at him.
“Wade.”
Sullivan snapped, “What?”
“Where were you between midnight and two?”
Sullivan laughed.
“What is this?”
“Answer.”
“Patrol.”
“Where?”
“South sector.”
“Your radio went silent.”
“I had signal issues.”
Miller's expression changed.
“How long?”
Sullivan said nothing.
Chloe spoke before courage could disappear.
“Sheriff.”
Her voice sounded too small.
Miller looked at her.
She pointed toward Sullivan's boots.
“That's Miller's Wash clay.”
Sullivan turned.
“Shut up.”
Dutch's head lowered.
Chloe continued.
“It hasn't rained in town.”
“Chloe,” Sullivan warned.
“But the spring at the wash keeps the clay wet.”
“You don't know what you're talking about.”
“I do.”
Her voice strengthened.
“You come in here all the time. Your boots usually leave gray dust.”
Sullivan moved toward her.
Miller stepped between them.
“Stop.”
Chloe looked at Miller.
“Sheriff, his hand.”
Sullivan shoved his injured hand toward his belt.
Miller noticed the swelling.
The entire diner had changed.
Seconds earlier, law enforcement and bikers had been facing each other.
Now everyone was looking at one man.
Sullivan.
He felt it.
His breathing accelerated.
“This is insane.”
Miller said, “Give me your weapon.”
“What?”
“Hand it over.”
“You're taking their side?”
“I'm investigating.”
“You're humiliating me in front of these criminals.”
Dutch's mouth tightened.
Miller's voice hardened.
“Wade, remove your sidearm slowly and place it on the counter.”
Sullivan stared at him.
Nobody moved.
Outside, motorcycle engines idled.
Inside, bacon burned quietly on Pete's forgotten grill.
Then Sullivan made the worst choice available.
He reached too quickly toward his belt.
The sergeant-at-arms moved at the same time.
So did Miller.
The situation became chaos for only a few seconds.
Miller shouted.
Two bikers closed distance.
Sullivan's arm was trapped before he could draw.
His pistol came free and slid across the linoleum.
Miller kicked it away.
“Enough!”
His voice cracked through the diner.
“Everybody back!”
Dutch raised one hand.
The bikers stopped.