Making sure everything's on the up and up. Jackson is my guest. He's helping me and unless he's broken a law, you have no business harassing him. Warren's expression remained pleasant, but his eyes were cold. Actually, I do have some questions.
Mr. Reeves, do you have a Nevada driver's license? California, and you've been here 2 weeks driving a vehicle with California plates. Nevada law requires you to register your vehicle within 30 days of establishing residency. I'm not a resident.
I'm visiting. 2 weeks is a long visit. Some might say you've established residency. Warren pulled out a notepad. That's a $500 fine plus impound fees for the vehicle.
You're not impounding his bike, Beatatric said. I'm enforcing the law. You're abusing your power. And Warren turned to her. The pleasant mask slipped.
Just for a moment. Jackson saw something underneath. Something ugly. Beatric, I've been patient with you, but this needs to end. Sell the diner.
Take the very generous offer I've arranged. Move on with your life. The diner's not for sale. Everything's for sale. Warren glanced at the Harley.
Even memories. Especially memories. Jackson stepped between them. I think you should leave now. Or what?
You'll assault an officer. Add to your record. Or I'll file a harassment complaint against you on behalf of Beatatrice. Warren laughed. With who?
I'm the law here with the state police, the attorney general, the FBI if I have to. Jackson's voice was level, calm, but underneath was iron. I've got friends, too, Sheriff. Friends who know how to make phone calls, how to ask uncomfortable questions, how to dig into small town sheriffs who abuse their authority. Warren's smile vanished.
Is that a threat? It's a promise. Leave Beatatrice alone. Leave me alone. Or find out what happens when you push people who push back.
For a long moment, nobody moved. The desert wind blew hot and dry. Dust devils spun in the parking lot. Finally, Warren said, "This isn't over. " "Yeah," Jackson said. "It is. " Warren and his deputy got back in the SUV, drove away.
Beatatrice was shaking. Jackson guided her to a chair. "He's going to make trouble," she said. "Real trouble. Let him try.
I meant what I said. I know people. " "What kind of people? The kind who don't like corrupt small town sheriffs. " Beatatric looked up at him. You do that to risk trouble with the law for me? Yes.
Why? Jackson thought about Diane, about promises, about the photograph upstairs. Because you were Dian's friend because you're my friend and because Warren's a bully who needs to be stopped. That evening, Jackson made calls first to Gideon. I need information on a sheriff Warren Blackwell, Dusty Ridge, Nevada.
Everything you can find. What kind of everything? Financial records, property holdings, any complaints filed against him, anything that doesn't smell right. That's not exactly legal boss. I'm not asking you to break laws.
I'm asking you to look at public records and maybe talk to people who know how to look deeper. This about the woman you're helping. Yeah, sheriff's trying to force her to sell her property, threatening me to get to her. I want to know why. I'll see what I can do.
Second call went to Natalie. Dad, is everything okay? I need a favor, sweetheart. You still have that friend who works for the FBI, the one who investigated medical fraud. Sarah, yeah, why?
I need to talk to her off the record about a corrupt sheriff. Silence. Then, Dad, what are you into? Nothing illegal. I'm helping someone, but there's a local sheriff abusing his power.
I need to know my options. Let me call Sarah. See if she'll talk to you. But, Dad, be careful. Corrupt sheriffs are dangerous.
I know I will be. Third call was harder. Jackson dialed a number he hadn't used in 8 years. A woman answered. Law offices of Morrison and Chen.
I need to speak with Natalie Morrison. May I ask who's calling? Her father. A pause. Then one moment, please.
Another voice came on. Younger, professional, cold. This is Natalie. Sweetheart, I we already talked today. Dad, why are you calling the office?
I need legal advice about property rights, about a sheriff trying to force someone to sell. Jackson heard papers shuffling a door closing. What's going on? Natalie's voice softened. Talk to me.
Jackson explained about Beatatrice, about Warren, about the harassment. When he finished, Natalie was quiet for a long moment. Dad, this sounds like a landing grab. Sheriff's probably got someone who wants the property, someone paying him to make it happen. Can you help?
I can look into it, but I'm in Portland. Nevada's out of my jurisdiction. I just need to know the law, what Beatric's rights are, what Warren can and can't do. Okay, give me 24 hours. I'll research and call you back.
Thank you, sweetheart. Dad, whatever you're doing there, whatever's changed in you, keep doing it. That you sound like the man mom used to tell me about. The man I remember from before. Jackson's throat tightened.
I'm trying. I know. And I'm proud of you. " After the calls, Jackson sat on the diner's front steps, watched the sun set, thought about the tangled web he'd stepped into. Beatric came out with two cups of coffee, sat beside him. "You didn't have to do all that," she said.
"Yes, I did. " "What? You've already done so much. " Jackson sipped his coffee. "Because Warren's not just threatening you. He's threatening something bigger. This place, what it represents, the idea that people can build something good and keep it.
It's just a diner. No, it's not. It's a home. A legacy. A promise kept to a man who deserved better than to have his memory erased.
Beatatrice was quiet. Then Douglas would have liked you. Think so. I know. So, he respected men who kept their promises, who stood up for what was right even when it was hard.
She smiled. He'd probably say you were too soft, that you should have punched Warren, but he'd respect you anyway. They sat in comfortable silence as stars emerged. Finally, Beatatrice said, "What happens next? " We wait. See what my people find.
See what Natalie says about your legal rights. And we get ready for what? For whatever Warren does next. Because men like him don't back down. They escalate.
You sound like you know. I do. I've met men like Warren before. In the club, in prison, on the street, they're all the same. They think power makes them untouchable.
Think fear makes them strong and what makes them weak. Jackson smiled. It wasn't a kind smile. The truth light in dark places. People who aren't afraid to fight back.
And you're not afraid. Not anymore. Not of him. Beatric reached over, squeezed his hand. Thank you, Jackson, for everything.
Don't thank me yet. This might get uglier before it gets better. I know, but I'm glad I don't have to face it alone. You won't. I promise.