“Yes.”
“Roof can wait.”
Walter looked at the investigators surrounding his car.
“Apparently so.”
Before leaving, he asked Mercer one question.
“Where’s Cole now?”
She answered.
“Still on patrol.”
Walter stared at her.
“You let him stay on the road?”
“If we move too early, whoever is above him knows the investigation is compromised.”
Walter’s voice hardened.
“And if he robs someone else?”
“We’re tracking him.”
Walter looked at Reyes.
“That what you told yourself about me?”
Reyes lowered his head.
Walter got into the SUV without another word.
By evening, Walter had repeated his story four times.
Once to Mercer.
Once to a state investigator.
Once to an assistant attorney general.
Once to a federal agent who introduced himself as Special Agent Marcus Hale.
Hale was a compact man with tired eyes and a voice so calm it made everyone else seem nervous.
He watched the footage once.
Then again.
Then a third time without sound.
Walter sat across from him.
“What are you looking for?”
Hale paused the recording as Cole reached through the window.
“His left hand.”
Walter leaned closer.
Cole’s right hand was taking the wallet.
His left hand rested against the window frame.
Hale enlarged the image.
Walter saw it.
A black ring.
Thick.
Unusual.
“What about it?”
Hale looked at Mercer.
She looked back.
Walter saw the same silent communication again.
His patience broke.
“If you two exchange one more secret look in front of me, I’m leaving.”
Hale almost smiled.
Then he turned the laptop.
“Three weeks ago, we obtained security footage from a storage facility used by a suspected money-laundering operation.”
Walter listened.
“One man in the footage wore a ring like that.”
“Cole?”
“Face wasn’t visible.”
“So maybe.”
“Maybe.”
Walter shook his head.
“What’s in the storage facility?”
Hale leaned back.
“Cash.”
“How much?”
“We believe several million dollars may have moved through it over the past year.”
Walter stared.
“From roadside theft?”
“Not all of it.”
“Then what?”
Hale hesitated.
Mercer answered.
“Drugs.”
Walter looked at her.
“Sheriff Pike is moving drug money?”
“We think someone inside county law enforcement is providing protection to traffickers.”
The room went quiet.
Walter thought of the old highway.
The farms.
The diners.
The courthouse with American flags hanging outside.
This was no longer three thousand dollars.
It had never been three thousand dollars.
His money was merely one drop in something filthy and deep.
Hale said, “Cole may be more important than we realized.”
Walter folded his arms.
“And Vale?”
“Vale is frightened.”
“He should be.”
Hale watched him.
“Not for himself.”
Walter frowned.
“For his daughter.”
Nathan Vale had a seventeen-year-old daughter named Sophie.
Walter learned that shortly before midnight.
Vale had been feeding information to investigators for eight months because Sheriff Pike had discovered that Vale once falsified a minor report to protect another officer from disciplinary action.
Pike had used it as leverage.
At first, Vale changed paperwork.
Then evidence logs.
Then traffic citations.
Then he was ordered to accompany officers who conducted illegal cash seizures.
Each time Vale tried to stop, Pike threatened to destroy his career and take away his pension.
Vale had eventually contacted the state.
He agreed to cooperate.
Then someone found out.
A photograph of Sophie leaving school was mailed to his home.
No message.
None was needed.
Walter listened to this from Hale.
“Where’s Vale now?”
“Missing.”
Walter sat up.
“What?”
“He failed to check in forty minutes ago.”
Mercer entered the room.
Her face confirmed it.
Walter looked from her to Hale.
“You said you were tracking them.”
“We were.”
“Were?”
“Cole’s cruiser transponder went offline.”
Walter stood.
Hale raised a hand.
“Mr. Bennett—”
“Don’t.”
Walter paced to the window.
Night had settled over Columbus.
He could see his own reflection.
Old face.
Gray hair.
Tired eyes.
He thought of Vale standing beside the cruiser.
Watching.
Doing nothing.
Walter had hated him for it.
Now he imagined a photograph of a teenage girl arriving at a father’s house.
Fear changed shape.
Walter understood that too well.
“What happens to him?” he asked.
Mercer said, “We find him.”
“And Cole?”
“We find him too.”
Walter turned.
“How?”
No one answered.
Then Walter remembered something.
His camera.
Not the video.
The audio.
When Cole had walked away carrying the cash, he had said something to Vale near the cruiser.
The dash camera might have captured it.
Walter hurried to the laptop.
“Play the last two minutes before Cole came back.”
Hale started the recording.
The officers appeared in the distance.
Audio was faint.
Wind.
Traffic.
Then Cole’s voice.
“…Pike’s place…”
Hale froze.
Mercer leaned forward.
“Again.”
They replayed it.
Cole.
Then Vale.
“Tonight?”
Cole answered.
A truck passed, drowning out several words.
Then:
“…old quarry road…”
Mercer was already reaching for her phone.
Walter looked at Hale.
“Pike’s place?”
Hale stood.
“There’s an abandoned limestone quarry six miles north of Bellford.”
Walter stared at him.
“And property nearby?”
Hale’s expression changed.
“One hunting cabin.”
“Owned by?”
Hale looked at Mercer.
She was checking something on her phone.
Her eyes lifted.
“Raymond Pike.”
Walter was told to stay behind.
He did not argue.
That surprised everyone.
Especially Walter.
But he was seventy-one, not foolish.
Agents left within minutes.
Mercer went with them.
Hale remained temporarily to coordinate.
Walter sat alone in the conference room.
Reyes entered twenty minutes later.
Walter didn’t look at him.
Reyes closed the door.
“Can we talk?”
“No.”
“Walter.”
“No.”
Reyes pulled out a chair but did not sit.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I thought the camera would protect you.”
Walter stared at the wall.
“You know what bothers me most?”
Reyes waited.
“You knew somebody might target me because I was old.”
Reyes lowered his head.
“And you decided that made me useful.”
“That isn’t how I thought about it.”