The cops refused to arrest the retired judge who broke my son's arm, completely unaware I was about to call in a dead favor from Afghanistan.

Leo’s hands shook so hard he dropped his phone twice into the sawdust before managing to unlock the screen.

"Put it on speaker," I commanded.

Leo tapped the screen and pressed the phone against his trembling knee. The line rang twice before Vernon answered. The Judge’s voice was frantic, breathless with anticipation.

*"Is it done?"* Vernon demanded. *"Is the place burning?"*

I leaned down, taking the phone from Leo’s fingers, and brought it to my lips.

"The place is fine, Vernon," I said.

A suffocating silence descended on the other end of the line. I could hear Vernon’s heavy, wheezing breath through the tiny speaker.

*"Vance?"* he whispered, the name coming out like a curse.

"Your two friends are sitting on my shop floor," I told him calmly. "One of them needs a rhinoplasty. The other is currently writing down a full confession on legal pad paper, detailing how much you promised to pay them and where the cash was hidden in your basement safe."

*"You're lying!"* Vernon shrieked, his voice cracking into full hysteria. *"Nobody believes a couple of south-side junkies over a retired appellate judge! I will burn your life to ash! You hear me? Ash!"*

"Look out your front window, Vernon," I said.

*"What?"*

"Look out your front window."

I tapped Nicole’s number on my own phone and patched it into the call.

Through the line, we heard the sound of heavy curtains being jerked open at Sterling Manor.

Then came the sirens.

Not the wailing two-tone of the local Greenfield police cruisers that Vernon owned, but the deep, bone-rattling air horns of Federal Marshal transport vans and the State Bureau of Criminal Investigation tactical units.

*"No..."* Vernon gasped. *"No, this isn't real. Higgins! Where is Higgins?!"*

"Chief Higgins surrendered himself to the US Attorney’s office in Cincinnati two hours ago, Judge," Nicole’s voice cut in, cold and authoritative. "In exchange for a third-degree conspiracy charge, he handed over the dashcam recordings from his cruiser outside the emergency room. The ones where you bragged about snapping Ethan Vance’s arm over your knee to 'teach the boy respect.'"

A heavy crash echoed through the phone as the front doors of Sterling Manor were breached by a hydraulic ram.

*"Federal agents! Hands where we can see them! On the floor! On the floor now!"*

*"Do you know who I am?!"* Vernon’s voice was a high, thin screech of pure terror. *"I have the Governor on speed dial! I am the law in this—"*

The sound of a heavy body being forced down against hardwood cut him off, followed by the metallic click of double-locking handcuffs.

"Clear!" a tactical officer shouted over the line. "Suspect secured."

I hung up the phone and handed it back to Leo, who was staring up at me as if I were a ghost.

"Get your brother," I told Leo. "Get in your truck, and drive straight to the federal building in Dayton. If you aren't in the lobby by midnight, I won't call the marshals. I’ll come find you myself."

Leo scrambled to his feet, hauled his bleeding, semiconscious brother off the floor, and dragged him out the side door into the night.