A receptionist recognized my name before I gave it.
That told me Keller’s story had spread.
“I’d like to see Chief Mercer.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
“I’ll check.”
She disappeared through a secured door.
Two minutes later, the door opened again.
Adrian Mercer walked out.
I had not seen him in twenty-three years.
Time had widened him.
His hair was nearly white.
There were deep lines beside his mouth.
But the eyes were the same.
Sharp.
Watchful.
The eyes of the terrified young patrolman Sam Price had apparently tried to protect.
“Elias Vance.”
“Adrian.”
He stared at me.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’ve been hearing that a lot.”
His gaze moved toward the receptionist.
“Office.”
We walked inside.
Mercer closed the door.
His office was neat almost to the point of emptiness.
No family photographs.
No awards except a framed service medal.
He did not sit.
Neither did I.
“Keller robbed you.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“One thousand.”
“Anything else?”
“My dignity, briefly.”
No smile.
“What did he say?”
I watched him.
“You know what he said.”
Mercer looked toward the door.
Then back at me.
“Say it.”
“Consider the theft forgotten.”
His face lost color.
“Damn it.”
“Lorraine Beck said you asked her the same question.”
His eyes sharpened.
“You talked to Lorraine?”
“And others.”
“Stop.”
“Why?”
“Because if they know you’re digging—”
“Who are they?”
He walked to the blinds and closed them.
Every instinct I had told me that if Mercer wanted to harm me, this was the moment.
Instead he unlocked a cabinet.
Behind ordinary binders was a second metal door.
He opened it.
Inside were dozens of folders.
Photographs.
Printed license plates.
Bank statements.
Officer schedules.
My throat tightened.
“What is this?”
Mercer said, “Twenty-three years of being afraid.”
He placed one file on the desk.
The name on the tab was SAMUEL PRICE.
I did not touch it.
For several seconds, I could not.
Mercer said quietly, “Sam saved my life.”
I looked at him.
“Tell me.”
He sat down.
“When I was twenty-four, I discovered my training officer was taking cash during stops.”
“Name?”
“Walter Haines.”
I remembered Haines.
Sergeant.
Retired early.
Died of pancreatic cancer twelve years ago.
“I thought it was just him,” Mercer continued. “Then I watched him deliver envelopes to a lieutenant. Then the lieutenant met somebody from the state.”
“Who?”
“I never saw the face.”
“Sam knew?”
“I contacted him anonymously.”
“Why Sam?”
“Because everyone knew Sam Price couldn’t be bought.”
That sounded like him.
Mercer looked down.
“He met me four times. The last time, I told him Haines had received a message. Somebody knew there was an informant.”
“And Sam died.”
“Two nights later.”
“What happened after?”
“I waited for someone from the state to contact me.”
“Daniel?”
Mercer looked at me sharply.
“No.”
“Who?”
“No one.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
“Daniel said he protected your identity.”
Mercer slowly stood.
“What?”
“He said Sam told him about you.”
For the first time, I saw genuine confusion in Mercer’s face.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because Sam made me swear we wouldn’t tell anyone inside the bureau.”
The room went silent.
“What?”
“He believed the leak was inside your office.”
I felt as though the floor had tilted.
“Sam told you that?”
“Yes.”
“He suspected who?”
“Not at first.”
“Later?”
Mercer hesitated.
Then he opened Sam’s folder.
Inside was a photocopy of a handwritten note.
Sam’s handwriting.
I recognized it instantly.
Three words.
WATCH THE FRIEND.
I stared at the page.
“That could mean anyone.”
Mercer said nothing.
“Where did you get this?”
“Sam mailed it to me.”
“When?”
“Postmarked the morning he died.”
“Why would he mail you evidence?”
“Because he didn’t trust the office.”
I looked again.
WATCH THE FRIEND.
“Why didn’t you give this to investigators?”
Mercer laughed without humor.
“Which investigators, Elias?”
I said nothing.
“The ones Sam thought were compromised?”
“You could’ve come to me.”
“I tried.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I called your house the night after the funeral.”
I frowned.
“I never got that call.”
“A woman answered.”
My breathing stopped.
“My wife?”
“I assumed so.”
“What did she say?”
Mercer looked uncomfortable.
“That you were sleeping. That she would give you the message.”
Rebecca.
My wife of thirty-eight years.
Dead for four.
A better judge of people than I had ever been.
She never gave me any message from Mercer.
“Exactly what did you tell her?”
“That Sam had been right.”
“About what?”
“I didn’t say.”
“Anything else?”
“I gave her a number.”
“What number?”
Mercer opened the folder again.
Then pushed a photocopy across the desk.
A sequence of eight digits.
I recognized nothing.
“What is it?”
“A bank deposit reference.”
“To whose account?”
“We didn’t know then.”
“And now?”
Mercer looked at me.
“Now we do.”
My phone rang.
Daniel.
Mercer saw the screen.
His face hardened.
“Don’t answer.”
I picked up.
“Danny.”
“Where are you?”
“You ask that a lot.”
“Elias.”
I looked directly at Mercer.
“I’m having coffee.”
“You don’t drink coffee after noon.”
I almost smiled.
Thirty-four years.
He knew me too well.
“I changed.”
“Where?”
“Why?”
“Because Keller disappeared.”
My smile vanished.
“What?”
“He and Pike were ordered to surrender their weapons at noon. Pike reported. Keller didn’t.”
“When was he last seen?”
“Forty minutes ago.”
“Vehicle?”
“Personal SUV.”
“Daniel—”