I stepped into the center aisle between the presentation table and the spectator gallery. My left wrist was wrapped in clean white surgical gauze, the swelling visible above the cuff of my faded khaki jacket. The yellow plastic transport tag that Gerald Thornton had wired to my coat still hung from my zipper pull, its unprinted cardstock catching the fluorescent glare.
Behind me, Special Agent Raymond Coleman carried two heavy legal boxes marked with state evidentiary seals. Officer Brenda Sullivan followed half a step behind Ray, wearing her service uniform, her empty duty holster unbuckled at her right hip. Arthur Thornton stopped speaking. His hands remained pinned to his blue folders, but his eyes dropped straight to Brenda’s unrigged duty belt. "Officer Sullivan? What is the meaning of this interruption? This is an executive working session of the commercial development authority."
"This session is adjourned under the provisions of the State Public Integrity Act," I said, walking to the edge of the walnut table. I pulled my gold-and-black bureau credential folder from my inner pocket, flipped it open, and laid it flat in front of Mayor Wallace. "My name is Aaron Cole. I am the deputy director of the State Bureau of Professional Standards. For the past twenty-four months, my office has conducted a pattern-and-practice investigation into the Ridgemont Police Department and the commercial acquisition practices of this committee."
Mayor Wallace took his glasses in his hand, looking from my state identification to the yellow tag pinned to my chest. "Deputy Director? What happened to your wrist? Why are you wearing an unlogged custody marker?"
"Your chief of police put this tag on my jacket two hours ago at the corner booth of Common Grounds," I said. "He threw me against Nora Whitfield's table, handcuffed me without probable cause, and transported me outside your municipal boundary to the decommissioned River Road substation. He attempted to coerce my signature on a fraudulent trespass waiver by threatening to plant an unregistered weapon in the trunk of my car."
A murmur broke out along the council seats. Councilwoman Evans sat back in her chair, her hand flying to her mouth.
CHAPTER 9
Arthur Thornton’s face tightened into an ugly, mottled gray, but his voice maintained a brittle, desperate authority. "This is an outrage. Mayor, this man is an interloper. If Gerald detained him, it was under valid municipal police power. A state administrative investigator has no authority to disrupt a scheduled municipal hearing without twenty-four hours' formal notice to the city attorney."
"Gerald isn't answering calls to the city attorney, Arthur," Brenda Sullivan said, stepping forward until she stood directly across from the council president. "Chief Thornton was taken into federal and state custody forty-five minutes ago on River Road. He is currently being booked at the Department of Public Safety holding annex in Cumberland on charges of extortion under color of authority, unlawful detention, and witness tampering."
The conference room went dead silent. Outside, the steady drone of midday traffic along Elm Street drifted through the casement windows, but nobody around the walnut table moved. Arthur looked toward the doors as if expecting uniformed officers to sweep into the room. "You're lying. Brenda, you’ve broken half a dozen department regulations just walking into this building without your service weapon. Mayor, call dispatch. Get Sergeant Keller up here right now."
"Sergeant Keller won't be coming up, Arthur," Ray Coleman said. He placed the first legal box on the walnut table with a heavy thud, stripped the red evidence tape, and pulled out three thick stacks of printed documents. "State troopers assumed administrative control of the Ridgemont dispatch room fifteen minutes ago. Sergeant Keller is cooperating with state investigators downstairs."