Raymond Miller did not look up immediately. He reached out with his right hand, took the brass magnifying lens from the blotter, and tilted it over the edge of the evidence slip.
"The seal was unbroken when Arthur brought the log," Raymond said, his voice slow and dry as split pine. "Marcus Vance didn't have time to use his solvent. The kraft-paper envelope is sitting in the bottom drawer of the intake safe right now. The purple routing stamp from the agricultural branch is on the flap, on Arthur’s carbon slip, and on the thumb of Marcus Vance’s glove. You don't need a grand jury to tell you what that means, Thomas. You just need a pair of eyes."
Captain Thomas took off his wet gloves, stepped up to the counter, and looked down at the items. He picked up the carbon duplicate first, checking the branch routing numbers against the state ledger on his clipboard. Then he looked across the room at Hayes.
Hayes was sitting on a wooden bench against the oil-drum storage rack. His jacket was still unbuttoned, his uniform tie hanging crooked against his chest. His knees were pressed tight together, his boots tucked back under the rungs as if he were trying to pull himself completely into the wall. When Thomas’s gaze settled on him, Hayes didn't look up; he stared at the damp floorboards between his feet.
"Where is Vance now?" Thomas asked.
"He’s parked at the township equipment gate on Mill Street," I answered, leaning against the door jamb. My left shoulder had locked up completely during the four hours we sat beside the teletype, the deep ache in my collarbone throbbing with every breath of the cold room air. "Pete Willis is sitting two truck lengths behind him with the county sander. They’ve been waiting for Hayes to walk back across the bypass so they could file the unauthorized vehicle report."
Thomas motioned to the two troopers behind him. "Take the transport cruiser down to the Mill Street culvert. Take Vance’s sidearm, secure his vehicle, and bring him directly to the county annex in Cold Springs. Don't process him through the township desk. If Pete Willis interferes, cite him for obstruction on an active felony warrant and impound the county rig."
The two troopers nodded, turned on their heels, and pushed back out into the freezing rain. Through the open door, the red and blue flashing beacons reflected against the wet brickwork of Church Street, their light cutting sharp arcs through the gray morning fog before fading toward the bypass.
Thomas pulled a wooden chair across the floor and sat down facing Hayes. "You handed over the evidence key, Hayes. The magistrate has that on the record. But that doesn't clear the fact that you stood on the shoulder of Old State Road while an officer under your observation assaulted a sixty-nine-year-old taxpayer and seized commercial property without a warrant."
Hayes’s mouth worked twice before any sound came out. "I didn't touch the money, Captain. I didn't touch Arthur."
"You took the envelope from his hand," Thomas said, his voice dropping into a hard, measured cadence. "You put it in your cargo pocket. You laughed while your partner wiped road dirt off his hands. In the state of Indiana, an officer who provides armed cover for a felony theft is not an observer; he is a principal participant."
"I have two girls," Hayes whispered, his voice cracking down the middle. "Marcus told me—"
"Marcus Vance doesn't sign your commission," Thomas interrupted. "The state does. And as of eight o'clock this morning, the township board is holding an emergency executive session to revoke your appointment for official misconduct. You will report to Cold Springs on Monday morning with your badge, your service weapon, and your uniform brass. If you testify truthfully before the grand jury regarding the August and September seizures, the district attorney may agree to defer the second-degree theft indictment. If you hedge on one date or one dollar, you’ll serve your time in the state facility at Fortner alongside the men you helped put there."
Thomas stood up, gathered the carbon slip, the teletype printout, and the brass key into a clear plastic property sleeve, and zipped it shut. He turned to me.
"Mr. Mercer, the district magistrate has released an emergency administrative warrant to open the township intake safe. We have a courier bringing your two thousand dollars up to the county seat. You can collect your cash from the clerk’s window at ten o'clock."