The call came on a Sunday morning.
Adam was in the garage, alone, wiping grease off his hands. The radio played old country songs. The rain had finally stopped, and weak sunlight filtered through the grimy windows.
His phone buzzed. Miller.
“We have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“The kind that doesn't have a badge.”
Adam leaned against the tool bench. “Talk to me.”
“Someone's been consolidating power. In the vacuum left by Samuel's network. Quietly. Carefully. No one noticed until it was too late.”
“Who?”
“His name is Marcus Webb.”
Adam's blood went cold. “Detective Webb? The one who was on Cindy's payroll?”
“The same. He resigned from the police force six months ago. Disappeared. We thought he'd run. Turns out, he was building.”
“Building what?”
“An empire. He's been re
