Chapter 2
I should have gone directly back to Fort Arden.
That was the sensible choice.
My briefing had already been delayed, my secure device required inspection, and half the installation command staff was waiting to hear why three helicopters and a recovery team had been dispatched into Red Creek County.
Instead, Colonel Marcus Reed and I remained in the parking lot.
The night air smelled of dust and helicopter exhaust.
“What did investigators find?” I asked.
Reed glanced toward the station.
“Enough that federal security asked us not to alert Mercer.”
“He already knows something is wrong.”
“He doesn’t know how much.”
Neither did I.
Reed handed me a tablet.
The preliminary summary was short.
Sheriff Wade Mercer had been the subject of nine civilian complaints in five years.
Wrongful detention.
Property seizure.
Intimidation.
Evidence irregularities.
Three complaints had disappeared before reaching the state review board.
Two complainants later withdrew their statements.
One moved away.
I looked up.
“This wasn’t in the initial jurisdiction report?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Why?”
“That’s what they’re trying to determine.”
A black SUV entered the parking lot.
Two people stepped out.
The woman in front introduced herself as Special Agent Lena Brooks.
She was calm, focused, and visibly irritated.
“General Hayes, I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”
“So do I.”
She looked toward the station.
“Your arrest triggered a classified-property notification. When your identity was verified, we ran the department. That produced several flags.”
“What kind?”
Brooks lowered her voice.
“Federal grant money assigned to this sheriff’s office doesn’t match equipment inventory. Seized-property records are incomplete. Complaints involving Mercer repeatedly vanish.”
Reed crossed his arms.
“Corruption?”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
Brooks looked at me.
“We need evidence, General. Not assumptions.”
That answer I respected.
“What do you need from me?”
“Your statement. Everything from the traffic stop through the booking process.”
I gave it.
Every detail.
Every word I remembered.
When I described Mercer demanding access to my secure device, Brooks stopped writing.
“He tried to make you unlock it?”
“Yes.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“He implied refusal would worsen my situation.”
“That matters.”
She wrote again.
Then the station door opened.
The young deputy stepped outside.
He looked around nervously before approaching.
I remembered his name from the booking desk.
Deputy Noah Collins.
“General Hayes?”
“Deputy.”
He looked at Brooks.
“Are you federal?”
“Yes.”
He swallowed.
“I need to talk to somebody.”
Brooks immediately became alert.
“About what?”
Collins glanced through the station windows.
“Not here.”
Ten minutes later, we were inside a military vehicle with the doors closed.
Collins’s hands shook.
“I’ve worked for Mercer eighteen months.”
Brooks said nothing.
She waited.
He continued.
“At first I thought he was just rough. Old-school. Everybody said that.”
“What changed?” I asked.
“I started seeing arrests disappear from the system.”
Brooks leaned forward.
“Explain.”
“Some people get booked, but there’s no final record. Their property gets logged, then later the property record changes.”
“Who changes it?”
Collins looked miserable.
“Usually Sheriff Mercer or Chief Deputy Sloan.”
“Have you seen them take anything?”
“Yes.”
That one word changed the air.
“What?” Brooks asked.
“Cash. Watches. Once a gold necklace.”
My jaw tightened.
Collins continued.
“They say it’s forfeiture. But there’s no paperwork.”
“Why haven’t you reported this?”
His eyes filled with shame.
“I tried.”
He reached into his jacket.
For half a second, the security officer beside Brooks tensed.
Collins pulled out a folded envelope.
“I sent copies to the state oversight office three months ago.”
Brooks accepted it.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Two weeks later Mercer called me into his office and repeated something from my complaint.”
The vehicle went silent.
“He knew?”
Collins nodded.
“He told me Red Creek protects its own.”
I understood his fear then.
He wasn’t simply afraid of losing his job.
He believed the people who were supposed to receive complaints were feeding them back to Mercer.
Brooks opened the envelope.
Photocopies.
Dates.
Names.
Property amounts.
Enough to demand attention.
“Do you have originals?”
“No. Mercer keeps records locked in his office.”
Brooks looked toward the station.
“We can’t search without authority.”
“Then get it,” Reed said.
“I’m working on it.”
My secure device buzzed in Reed’s possession.
He checked the message.
“General, command needs you back.”
I knew he was right.
Still, something bothered me.
“Deputy Collins, why did Mercer personally respond to my traffic stop?”
Collins hesitated.
“He does that sometimes.”
“When?”
“When the driver looks like they have money.”
Brooks stopped reading.
I thought about my vehicle.
Government sedan.
Clean.
Out-of-county plates.
A woman traveling alone.
Mercer may have assumed I was an easy target.
“What usually happens?” I asked.
Collins looked at the floor.
“They find something wrong with the car. Tow it. Charge fees. Sometimes property goes missing.”
My arrest suddenly felt less random.
Brooks reached for the door.
“Deputy, you’re coming with us.”
Collins panicked.
“If Mercer sees me—”
“He won’t.”
A loud knock hit the window.
Everyone turned.
Sheriff Mercer stood outside.
His smile was gone.
Brooks lowered the glass halfway.
“Can I help you?”
Mercer looked directly at Collins.
“You’re still on duty.”
Brooks answered.
“He’s speaking with federal investigators.”
Mercer’s eyes sharpened.
“About what?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“It is when he works for me.”
Collins shrank back.
I opened my door and stepped out.
Mercer looked at me.
“General, I thought you were leaving.”
“I was.”
His gaze shifted again toward Collins.
“You causing trouble, Noah?”
The deputy finally looked up.
Something changed in him.
Maybe he was tired of being frightened.
Maybe seeing Mercer powerless for once had given him courage.
“I’m telling the truth.”
Mercer’s face hardened.
“That can be a dangerous thing when you don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Brooks stepped between them.
“Sheriff, walk away.”
He stared at her.
Then at me.
Finally, he smiled.
But there was no humor in it.
“You people think you understand this county because you flew some helicopters in here.”
I held his gaze.
“No, Sheriff.”
I nodded toward Collins.
“We understand it because your own deputy is afraid of you.”
Mercer’s smile vanished.
Brooks closed the vehicle door.
As we prepared to leave, her phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Then looked sharply at me.
“What?”
She ended the call.
“That was the federal magistrate.”
Reed straightened.
“We have the search warrant?”
Brooks shook her head.
“Not yet.”
Her expression was darker.
“The judge wants us to explain why Sheriff Mercer’s department accessed the federal warrant database eleven minutes ago.”
My stomach tightened.
May you like
Someone had warned him.
Again.
