Troy showed it to Keller.
“Can you trace it?”
“Already trying.”
A second message arrived.
You don't know who you're fighting.
Troy smiled faintly.
Keller noticed.
“What?”
“He's nervous.”
“He threatened us.”
“No.”
Troy looked at the screen.
“People who are confident don't send messages like this.”
That night, the FBI placed surveillance around Hale's properties.
At 9:40 p.m., Harris left his house.
He drove to an abandoned warehouse.
A black SUV was waiting.
Troy watched through binoculars.
Harris entered.
Ten minutes later, Captain Reeves arrived.
Then Hale.
Troy whispered into his radio.
“Record everything.”
Inside the warehouse, the three men stood around a table.
Hale placed a folder on it.
“You said Troy was nobody.”
Reeves looked angry.
“I didn't know he was federal.”
“You were supposed to know.”
“I did my part.”
Hale leaned closer.
“You did a terrible job.”
Harris stepped forward.
“Can we stop arguing and talk about the evidence?”
Hale turned toward him.
“What evidence?”
“The recordings.”
Hale's face changed.
“What recordings?”
Harris swallowed.
“The car. The station. Everything.”
Reeves stared at him.
“You said his equipment wasn't active.”
“I didn't know.”
Hale became silent.
Then he smiled.
“Then we find it.”
Meanwhile, Troy's team listened from a surveillance van.
Every word had been captured.
Keller looked at Troy.
“We have them.”
Troy shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hale hasn't said enough.”
“He just discussed destroying evidence.”
“That's circumstantial.”
Troy pointed at the screen.
“We need him talking about the money.”
At 10:05 p.m., Hale asked Reeves:
“How much did Morrison collect this month?”
Troy's eyes narrowed.
Reeves answered.
“Twenty-eight thousand.”
“From?”
“Traffic stops. Two businesses. One nightclub.”
“And Harris?”
“Eleven.”
Hale nodded.
“Good.”
Troy whispered:
“Now.”
Agents surrounded the warehouse.
But Hale suddenly looked toward the ceiling.
“Wait.”
Everyone froze.
“What?”
Hale pointed.
“There.”
A tiny red light blinked above them.
The surveillance device.
Hale smiled.
“Federal agents.”
Reeves panicked.
Harris reached for his weapon.
Then the lights came on.
“FBI! Don't move!”
Agents flooded the warehouse.
Hale raised his hands.
Reeves followed.
Harris didn't.
He ran.
He made it twenty feet before an agent tackled him.
Troy entered last.
Hale stared at him.
“You.”
Troy walked toward the table.
“Yes.”
“You planned the traffic stop.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Morrison would attack you.”
“I suspected.”
“You used yourself as bait.”
Troy looked at the folder.
“You gave me exactly what I needed.”
Hale laughed bitterly.
“You think this ends with me?”
“No.”
Troy picked up the folder.
“That's why I'm not smiling.”
Inside were payment records.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
And a list titled:
DEERFIELD POLICE — MONTHLY COLLECTIONS
But beneath it was another document.
One that changed everything.
It was a list of people who had received payments from Hale.
At the bottom were three names that didn't belong to the police department.
A judge.
A prosecutor.
And a county commissioner.
Keller looked at Troy.