Page 192 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

“You understood enough to try.”

Honey leans across the table and wraps an arm around my shoulders. Between her, Junie, Wes beneath me, and Roman at my side, there is nowhere left to retreat.

Pepper stays seated. “Some of us respect personal space.”

I reach across the table.

She takes my hand.

Her fingers squeeze mine, firm and warm.

The bakery smells like coffee, sugar, and fresh bread. Familiar things. Ordinary things. For years, I’ve entered rooms like this, prepared to leave before anyone asks me to. Today I sit in the center of the booth with my alpha beneath me, my beta against my side, and my friends crowding close. For maybe the first time, I’m not standing at the edge of my own life.

The bell above the front door rings when Tom lets himself inside. Honey points toward the sign.

“I brought official paperwork,” Tom says.

“That is worse,” Honey says.

Tom crosses the bakery, carrying a folder thick enough to damage the table. He stops beside our booth, and his gaze catches on the marks beneath my collar before he politely looks elsewhere. “Congratulations.”

Roman smiles. “Thank you.”

Wes tightens his arm around me.

Tom pulls a chair from the next table. “We have the first complete case update. Some of it will be released publicly this afternoon. Some stays with BESTF.”

“BESTF,” I say. “Still the least-comforting acronym in law enforcement.”

Roman’s shoulder presses against mine. “We considered Best Friends, but the uniforms tested poorly.”

Tom ignores him with the ease of long-suffering practice. “Sullivan Mercer’s phone, vest, and motorcycle carry Hollow Saints insignia. The bike recovered near the south access trail matches traffic footage from Heritage Hall. The gang used Mercer Transport contracts to move carrier compound, cash, and equipment through multiple counties.”

“The person who fired the darts?” Wes asks.

“Gang associate. Deputies caught him at the old timber landing after his motorcycle stalled in the mud.”

Roman leans forward. “Any connection to the manufacturing site?”

“Not yet. The annex was a local blending, testing, and distribution point. The concentrated GatorX base arrived sealed from somewhere else.”

“So Sullivan wasn’t making it,” I say.

“No. The Hollow Saints brought the concentrated base into the region. Sullivan used the annex to alter it, test delivery methods, and move the operation through Mercer Transport.” Tom taps the report. “Rusk confirms he was paid to make deliveries and pickups, but he never knew who was directing him. The money trail and transport records connect that work to Sullivan.”

He turns another page. “Myrtle admitted she used the shared Heritage Hall account to access your grandmother’s correction and authorize the sealed museum transfer. She supplied the history and access because she believed the Love Stone could make the relief last without destroying bond recognition.”

My stomach turns, despite Wes’s warmth around me. “Did she know about the cameras at my house?”

“No. Sullivan added the surveillance and increased the concentration without telling her. But she helped steal the artifact, concealed evidence, and participated in dosing Maribel.”

“Grief explains why she did it,” I say. “It doesn’t excuse her.”

Tom nods. “Myrtle and Sullivan are both being held. Sullivan faces charges for the shooting, abduction, drug operation, evidence destruction, and the attack on the search team. Myrtle’s charges will reflect her role, including unlawful restraint and administering the compound.”

Junie’s face has gone pale. “What about Maribel?”

“She is at the regional clinic with her pack. Recognition has remained stable since the exposure ended.”