The deputy unclipped his metal cuffs from his utility belt.

The cold metal clicked in the quiet room.

I held Owen closer, covering his tiny ears so he wouldn’t hear the harsh sounds of the confrontation.

But Logan was still watching us from the edge of the kitchen, his posture remarkably relaxed.

He caught my eye and gave me a slow, mocking nod.

I knew that look.

Logan always had a back door, a friend in a high office, a corrupt connection he had cultivated through his political circles.

“Put your hands behind your back, sir,” Deputy Miller told Walter.

Walter’s face turned a deep, angry purple.

“Do you know who I am, Deputy? I suggest you call your sheriff before you do something you’ll regret.”

“I don’t care who you are,” Miller said, pulling Walter’s hands behind his back.

The metal cuffs clicked shut around Walter’s thick wrists.

Patricia shrieked, backing away until her spine hit the hallway wall.

“And you too, ma’am,” Miller said, pointing to her. “Turn around.”

Logan took out his phone again, his eyes reflecting the blue screen light.