“Wade’s patrols are thick near the docks tonight.”

“I know,” I said, keeping my eyes locked on my brother.

“Seven.”

Caleb looked at the black leather ledger in my left hand.

His face was pale, almost translucent under the grease stains on his cheeks.

“The ledger,” he stammered, pointing a shaking finger.

“If you have that, you already have her by the throat.”

“It’s not enough,” I said.

“I need my son, Caleb.”

“And I need the names of everyone who helped cover up Emily’s death.”

“Eight.”

I thumbed the hammer of the pistol back.

The metallic click was incredibly loud in the empty, hollow space of the warehouse.

Caleb flinched as if he had already been shot.

“Stop! Okay, stop!” he cried out, his voice cracking.

He slumped against a wooden crate, his head falling into his hands.

“I’ll tell you,” he sobbed.

“Just don’t shoot me, Daniel. Please.”

Sophia took a step closer, her hand resting on her service weapon.

“Where is the boy, Caleb?” she demanded.

Caleb didn’t look at her.

He kept his eyes on the dirt floor, his shoulders shaking.