“This device is not just a phone,” Arthur said, his voice carrying over the wind. “It’s a direct-link transmitter. Everything you have said since I pressed this button has been securely uploaded to a cloud server in the state capital. Your demands. Your threats to your partner. And your admission that you are in possession of my watch.”
Miller stared at the red numbers ticking away on the screen. 04:13. 04:14.
All the air rushed out of Miller. The taser in his hand suddenly felt like a piece of useless plastic. He couldn't shoot the phone. He couldn't delete the file. It was already gone.
“Who are you?” Miller whispered, his bravado entirely broken, replaced by a hollow, sickening dread.
Arthur lowered the phone. “My name is Arthur Vance.”
Behind Miller, Davis gasped audibly.
Miller whipped his head around to look at the rookie. “What? What is it?”
Davis looked like he had just seen a ghost. He took his hat off, running a trembling hand through his hair. “Vance. In the academy… they talked about a Director Vance. State Standards and Accountability. They said he retired five years ago.”
“I did,” Arthur said calmly. “But I found retirement to be exceedingly boring. And the Governor asked me to consult on rural precincts with unusually high civilian complaint ratios.”
Arthur turned his piercing gaze back to Miller.
“Like yours, Deputy Miller. Three excessive force complaints in twenty-four months. Two missing evidence logs. A remarkable pattern of targeting out-of-state license plates for cash citations that never seem to make it to the courthouse. You’ve been very busy.”
Miller was shaking now. He reached up with trembling fingers and unbuttoned his left breast pocket. He pulled out the heavy silver watch, the metal gleaming in the sun. It felt like a live grenade in his hand.
“Take it,” Miller said, his voice pleading, holding the watch out. “Just take it back. It was a misunderstanding. I was going to run the serial number, that’s all. You can have it.”
“I don't want it from you,” Arthur said, refusing to extend his hand. “That watch was given to me by my son before he deployed to Kandahar. It is the most valuable thing I own. And you took it because you believed your badge gave you the right to take whatever you pleased from people who couldn't defend themselves.”
“Please,” Miller begged, looking frantically up and down the empty highway. “I have a mortgage. I have a pension in four years. Don't do this.”
“I’m not doing anything,” Arthur replied. “You did this. The moment you decided the law was a weapon instead of a shield, you wrote your own ending.”
In the distance, the faint, high-pitched wail of sirens began to bleed through the hot air.
Davis looked toward the horizon. Two plumes of dust were rising from the highway, approaching fast from the direction of town.
“Backup is coming,” Davis said quietly.