"Sergeant Miller?" the voice asked, cold and deliberate. "This is Superior Court Senior Judge Arthur Miller speaking from the district chambers in Savannah. I have been waiting for Thomas Cole's check-in call for exactly thirty-five minutes. Put him on this line immediately."
Miller's hand tightened on the receiver until the plastic creaked. His eyes widened behind his wire-rimmed glasses, flicking from me to Coyle with absolute, frozen horror.
"Your Honor," Miller stammered, pulling the microphone tight to his lips. "Thomas Cole is... he is currently in custody at our booking desk."
"Under whose authority?" Judge Miller's voice boomed through the receiver, loud enough that every deputy in the squad room heard every syllable clearly. "Because thirty minutes ago, my office received a silent transponder trip from the magistrate's courier vehicle on Route 9, indicating the vehicle was diverted to an unauthorized commercial scrap yard. Thomas Cole carries an active judicial warrant to transport those records directly to the federal grand jury in Charleston at daybreak. If so much as a single thread on that courier bag has been tampered with, every officer involved in that stop is facing felony obstruction of federal process."
Sergeant Miller slowly took the receiver from his ear, laid it gently on the laminate desk, and looked straight at Vance Coyle.
The room was dead, suffocatingly quiet.
Miller reached into his pocket, pulled out his departmental master key, and walked around the booking counter. He stepped behind me, inserted the key into the heavy double-locking cuffs, and turned it until both ratchet jaws snapped open.
My arms dropped forward. The sudden rush of hot blood back into my numbed fingers sent a stinging, needle-sharp ache through my forearms. I rubbed my raw wrists, stepped past Coyle without looking at him, and picked up the receiver.
"Judge Miller," I said into the mouthpiece. "It's Thomas. The car was intercepted at mile nine by Deputy Coyle. The comptroller seal was forced, but the primary ledgers are sitting on the intake counter in front of me."