A few hours earlier, Mercer had believed the expensive car made its driver suspicious.
Now the same car might help investigators understand why other drivers had been stopped.
Vanessa's phone vibrated again.
Foster was calling.
She answered.
“Daniel?”
His voice was serious.
“We have a problem.”
Vanessa moved away from the others.
“What kind?”
“Someone at the county department contacted our field office.”
“About the stop?”
“About you.”
Vanessa looked toward Mercer.
“What did they ask?”
Foster hesitated.
“They wanted confirmation that you were actually assigned to this investigation.”
“That isn't unusual.”
“No. But they also asked whether you were carrying evidence connected to the old agricultural property.”
Vanessa went still.
She had not mentioned that property to either deputy.
She had not mentioned it to Reed.
And the investigation had not publicly identified it.
“Who made the call?”
“We're trying to establish that.”
Vanessa looked toward the gravel access road.
The pine trees stood motionless in the fading light.
“Daniel, somebody knows more than they should.”
“I agree.”
She lowered her voice.
“And I think the stop was only part of it.”
2 | Chapter 2: The Records Nobody Wanted Opened028
“Don't confront anyone about the property,” Foster instructed.
Vanessa stood beside the federal SUV, watching Mercer speak quietly with Sergeant Reed.
“I wasn't planning to.”
“We need to know how the information traveled.”
“Agreed.”
Foster paused.
“Come back to Atlanta. We'll review the recording and decide what happens next.”
Vanessa looked toward Briggs.
“He may be willing to cooperate.”
“Then we'll arrange a protected interview.”
“Good.”
“Vanessa?”
“Yes?”
“Don't assume he's innocent because he's frightened.”
She watched Briggs glance nervously toward his partner.
“I won't.”
The call ended.
Bennett approached.
“What's happening?”
Vanessa explained the unauthorized inquiry.
Bennett listened without interrupting.
When Vanessa finished, she looked toward the county vehicles.
“Someone's trying to determine what we know.”
“Possibly.”
“Could be damage control.”
“Could be something worse.”
Bennett considered that.
“Then we need to keep our assumptions separate from the evidence.”
Vanessa nodded.
That discipline had kept their investigation alive.
Suspicion could guide questions.
Only evidence could support conclusions.
They returned to Atlanta in the federal SUV.
Torres followed the tow truck to a secured facility.
Vanessa watched the pine trees disappear behind them.
The highway looked ordinary from a distance.
A strip of asphalt.
A narrow shoulder.
A few scattered properties.
Nothing about it announced the fear described in the complaints.
But she knew what isolation could do.
A driver stopped there might have no witnesses.
No nearby business.
No immediate help.
And no way to prove what happened afterward.
Vanessa looked down at the small bandage on her hand.
She thought of Jordan Ellis.
He had been nineteen when deputies searched his car.
He had been too frightened to challenge them.
When he told his mother what happened, she had insisted on filing a complaint.
The department called the incident routine.
Jordan stopped driving that highway.
Vanessa had read his statement.
Now she understood the physical reality behind it.
The sudden commands.
The uncertainty.
The knowledge that one wrong movement could make everything worse.
Bennett glanced at her.
“You're quiet.”
“I'm thinking about Jordan.”
“The Ellis complaint?”
“Yes.”
Bennett kept her eyes on the road.
“He didn't have a recording.”
“No.”
“But he reported it anyway.”
Vanessa nodded.
“That took courage.”
They reached the Atlanta field office after sunset.
Foster met them in a secure conference room.
He was fifty-two, with closely cropped gray hair and a habit of listening before speaking.
A large monitor displayed a map of the county.
Colored markers identified reported stops.
Several clustered around the abandoned agricultural property.
Foster pointed toward the screen.
“Let's start with what we know.”
Torres connected the recovered vehicle recording.
The room became silent.
Mercer's voice filled the speakers.
“Where did you get this car?”
Vanessa watched herself remain seated behind the wheel.
“It's mine.”
Mercer laughed.
The recording continued.
His threats grew louder.
Then came the impact.
The window shattered.
Bennett flinched despite knowing what was coming.
Foster remained motionless.
The recording showed Vanessa turning away from the glass.
Then Mercer opened the door.
The badge appeared.
Briggs warned him to stop.
The change was immediate.
Mercer's posture stiffened.
His voice softened.
The aggression vanished.
Foster stopped the video.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Finally, he looked at Vanessa.
“Do you want a moment?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Then let's continue.”
They reviewed the remainder.
Vanessa's questions.
Mercer's explanation.
The recording disclosure.
The deputies' reactions.
When it ended, Foster folded his hands.
“The conduct is serious.”
Bennett nodded.
“And the change after the badge appears is significant.”
Vanessa looked at the frozen image.
Mercer stood beside the open door.
His hand was still near his handcuffs.
“It's significant because it shows he could control himself.”
Foster considered her words.
“He changed his behavior when he understood your position.”
“Yes.”
“That doesn't establish every motive.”
“No.”
“But it establishes the sequence.”
Vanessa nodded.
“And the sequence matters.”
Torres displayed the note Briggs had given her.
Four dates.
Several unit numbers.
One circled instruction.
CHECK ACCESS ROAD.
Foster compared the dates with the complaint timeline.
May you like
“Three match reported incidents.”
Bennett leaned forward.
“The fourth?”
“No complaint attached.”
Vanessa studied the entry.
“Maybe nobody filed one.”
“Or nothing happened,” Foster replied.
“Both are possible.”
Foster pointed toward the patrol assignments.
“We need the original records.”
Torres opened another file.
“The county has already acknowledged the preservation request.”
“Any objections?” Foster asked.
“Not yet.”
Vanessa looked at the map.
“What about the inquiry concerning the agricultural property?”
Foster's expression tightened.
“We traced the call to the sheriff's administrative office.”
“Who made it?”
“The office hasn't identified the caller.”
Bennett frowned.
“That's unusually vague.”
“Yes.”
Foster turned toward Vanessa.
“Have you heard of Captain Russell Harlan?”
“No.”
“He oversees patrol operations in that district.”
“Does he supervise Mercer?”
“Indirectly.”
Torres displayed a personnel chart.
Mercer's unit fell under Harlan's operational command.
Briggs's name appeared beneath Mercer's.
Sergeant Reed was assigned to another supervisory rotation.
Vanessa studied the chart.
“Who controls the overnight patrol assignments?”