Chapter 87. Tom’s Desperation

Chapter 87. Tom’s Desperation
Tom didn’t sit. He didn’t even breathe right. He hovered near Elijah’s dining table like someone trapped between confessing and collapsing.

His hands shook.

Not a little tremor. A full-body tremor—like a man who knew the truth was only seconds away from destroying him.

Elijah watched him carefully.

“Tom,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “Just tell me.”

Tom scrubbed a hand over his face. “Elijah… you shouldn’t have broken into the mayor’s office.”

“I didn’t tell you I did,” Elijah said.

Tom’s jaw twitched. He looked sick.

“You think nobody saw?” Tom whispered. “You think the mayor doesn’t have alarms on every drawer? You think he doesn’t get notifications when so much as a paperclip in that building is touched?”

Elijah’s chest tightened. “How long have you known I had the files?”

Tom looked down. “Since the moment you downloaded them.”

“Elijah exhaled slowly. "So that’s why you're here.”

Tom shook his head. “No. I’m here because you’re in over your head. You don’t understand what you stole. Or who it belongs to.”

“Elijah raised an eyebrow. “Then explain it.”

Tom didn’t speak at first. He leaned against the counter, bracing himself with both hands, like the room was tilting.

“Elijah,” he whispered, “the Cresthaven family isn’t what people think.”

Elijah crossed his arms. “Then tell me what they are.”

Tom stared at him—really stared—like he hoped Elijah would back down, or walk away, or laugh and call this all paranoia.

Elijah didn’t.

So Tom whispered, “They’re connected to people who make decisions above both our pay grades.”

“That’s vague,” Elijah snapped.

Tom slammed a fist against the counter. “Because if I say more, they’ll hear it.”

Elijah froze.

Tom wasn’t being metaphorical.

“You think you're paranoid,” Tom said, voice shaking. “You think you’re losing it. But Elijah… you’re not paranoid enough.”

“What does that mean?”

Tom hesitated—then reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He tossed it on the table.

Elijah unfolded it.

A printed email. From a private domain. Addressed to the sheriff’s office.

Subject line: Directive Regarding E.W.

Elijah felt the blood drain from his face.

The body of the email was short:
“He is not to be interfered with until Phase Three. Observation only. Maintain distance unless instructed otherwise.”

“Elijah swallowed. “Phase. Three.”

Tom nodded grimly. “Whatever Phase Two was? It’s done. We’re past it.”

Elijah’s voice cracked. “Tom… what have you gotten pulled into?”

Tom’s eyes filled with something Elijah never expected to see in the man—fear.

“I didn’t choose this,” Tom said. “I didn’t sign up for it. It came with the badge. It came with the damn town.”

Elijah stepped forward. “How long?”

Tom didn’t look at him.

“How long?” Elijah repeated.

Tom whispered, “Years.”

Elijah reeled. “Years you’ve been doing what? Watching people? Moving evidence? Looking the other way?”

Tom didn’t argue.

He didn’t deny it.

He just stared at the floor.

“Jesus,” Elijah whispered.

Tom finally found words, but they came out broken. “You think you’re the first to try to fix this town? You think you’re the first who thought the law could actually win? Elijah… I watched better men than me get crushed. I watched families disappear. I watched cases vanish.”

“You helped,” Elijah said quietly.

Tom pressed both palms into his eyes. “Because I couldn’t stop it.”

“Don’t give me that,” Elijah snapped. “You had choices.”

Tom looked up sharply. “I didn’t. You don’t understand how deep this goes.”

“Then make me understand!”

Tom slammed his hand onto the table again. “They have reach, Elijah. They know every move you make before you make it. They know your routines, your weaknesses, your relationships—”

Elijah stiffened. “Eden.”

Tom’s face twisted. “Yes. Especially her.”

Elijah stepped so close Tom had to lean back. “If they come anywhere near my daughter—”

“They won’t,” Tom said quickly. “Not yet.”

Elijah grabbed him by the collar. “Not. Ever.”

Tom didn’t fight him. He let Elijah hold him like that, like he believed he deserved every second of it.

“Elijah,” Tom said, voice breaking, “they don’t need to touch her. They just need to touch you.”

“What does that mean?”

Tom flinched. “It means you were never supposed to survive long enough to get this far.”

Elijah released him, stepping back.

“Then why am I still here?” he whispered.

Tom’s voice dropped to a rasp. “Because someone high up wants you alive.”

Elijah blinked. “Alive? For what?”

Tom shook his head. “I don’t know. I swear I don’t know. But Elijah… there’s a reason they’ve been watching you since New York. There’s a reason they’ve tracked every case you took. Every argument with your ex-wife. Every move Eden made.”

Elijah felt nauseous.

“You’re telling me this isn’t about Landon Carver,” he said. "Or Noah. Or Matthew. Or any case.”

Tom closed his eyes.

“It’s about you,” he whispered.

Elijah staggered back like he’d been punched.

“Me? Why? I’m nobody.”

Tom looked up slowly.

“Elijah… you’re the only one who ever got close to stopping them. Years ago. Before you even knew what you were touching.”

Elijah blinked. “What? When?”

Tom swallowed hard.

“That case,” he said. “Your case. The one you were arrested for when we were kids.”

Elijah froze.

“No,” he said. “No, that case was local. Stupid. A fight gone wrong. A setup, sure, but—”

“You don’t remember because they made sure you wouldn’t,” Tom snapped. “They buried witnesses. Files. Statements. They tore out anything that connected you to—”

Tom stopped himself.

Elijah’s voice was almost a whisper. “Connected me to what?”

Tom looked sick. “I can't tell you. Not yet.”

Elijah’s hands curled into fists. “Tom—”

“Elijah—if I say the wrong name? If I even breathe the wrong word? They’ll kill me before I get back to my cruiser.”

Silence.

Thick. Heavy.

Then Elijah said, “So why tell me anything at all?”

Tom swallowed.

“Because you’re my friend,” he whispered. “Because I should’ve told you years ago. Because I’m not strong enough to fight them, Elijah… but you are.”

“No,” Elijah said. “I’m not.”

“Yes,” Tom said firmly. “You are. And that scares the hell out of them.”

Elijah stared at him. “If you believe in me so damn much, then help me.”

Tom looked down at his trembling hands.

“I can’t.”

“You already are,” Elijah said. “By coming here. By warning me. By admitting you’re part of something you never wanted to be a part of.”

Tom closed his eyes tightly.

“It’s too late,” he whispered. “They know you opened that file. They know you saw the surveillance. They know you saw your name.”

Elijah’s voice steadied. “Then what happens now?”

Tom opened his eyes.

“Elijah… they’re coming.”

Elijah felt the room tilt. “When?”

Tom’s voice cracked.

“Now.”

A car door slammed outside.

Elijah’s heart stopped.

“Get Eden,” Tom whispered. “Get her out the back. Don’t pack. Don’t call anyone. Just run. I’ll stall them. I’ll buy you minutes—maybe seconds.”

Elijah stared at his trembling friend.

“Tom,” he said quietly. “If you do this… they’ll kill you.”

Tom nodded once.

“I know.”

“Why?”

Tom finally stopped shaking.

“Because I’m tired of being their dog,” he whispered. “And because you’re the only man in this town who ever tried to do the right thing… even when it broke you.”

Another car door slammed.

Voices.

Footsteps.

Heavy. Purposeful. Not local police. Not neighbors.

“Elijah,” Tom said urgently, “go.”

Elijah grabbed his jacket. His keys. He ran toward the back room where Eden slept.

But he paused.

He looked back at Tom.

Tom gave a single nod—a goodbye.

Then he turned toward the front door, squared his shoulders, and reached for his gun.