"Yes."
"Are there recordings?"
"Body cameras are active. At least one civilian recorded the incident."
"Stay where you are. Do not interfere with the preservation of any recordings. Do not allow anyone to delete or alter evidence. A team is being notified."
Reed nodded.
"Understood."
He ended the call.
For several seconds, he remained beside the vehicle.
Then his phone vibrated.
A text message appeared.
It was from Sergeant Collins.
WHERE ARE YOU? SHERIFF WANTS YOU BACK INSIDE.
Reed stared at the screen.
A second message appeared.
DON'T SAY ANYTHING TO FEDERAL PEOPLE WITHOUT CLEARING IT WITH HIM.
Reed slowly lowered the phone.
He looked through the window again.
Sheriff Harlan was standing with his arms crossed.
The judge was speaking to the diner owner.
And suddenly Reed understood something that made his stomach tighten.
The sheriff was not worried about what had happened to the judge.
He was worried about what the judge might discover.
At 8:47 a.m., a black SUV pulled into the parking lot.
A second vehicle followed.
Neither had police markings.
Two men and a woman stepped out.
They wore dark business clothing and carried identification credentials.
One of the men approached the diner entrance.
Reed recognized the general appearance of federal law enforcement immediately.
He stepped forward.
"Deputy Reed?"
"Yes."
"Special Agent Laura Mitchell, Federal Bureau of Investigation."
She displayed her identification.
"Where is Judge Brooks?"
"Inside."
"Is she safe?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Who is the sheriff?"
Reed pointed toward the booth.
Mitchell looked through the window.
She saw Harlan standing beside the table.
Then she saw Judge Brooks.
Her expression tightened.
"Stay here, Deputy."
The agents entered the diner.
The room grew even quieter.
Judge Brooks turned when she heard the door open.
"Laura."
"Your Honor."
Mitchell approached the booth.
"Are you injured?"
"No. Just a little shaken."
"Do you need medical attention?"
"No, thank you."
Mitchell looked at the sheriff.
"Is this the individual involved?"
Evelyn nodded.
"Yes."
Mitchell turned toward Harlan.
"Sir, I'm Special Agent Laura Mitchell with the FBI. I need to speak with you."
Harlan straightened his uniform.
"About what?"
"An incident involving a federal judicial officer."
"There's been a misunderstanding."
"That is something we can establish after reviewing the available evidence."
He crossed his arms.
"I am the elected sheriff of Bellwood County."
"I understand."
"And I will not be treated like a criminal because of a misunderstanding."
Mitchell remained calm.
"Nobody has called you a criminal, Sheriff."
"Then what is this?"
"An investigation."
The sheriff looked toward the entrance.
He seemed to be searching for someone.
Perhaps an attorney.
Perhaps another officer.
Perhaps a familiar face who would remind him that he still had authority.
But nobody stepped forward.
Judge Brooks reached into her handbag and retrieved a small notebook.
"Agent Mitchell, there is something else I would like you to know."
Mitchell turned toward her.
"Yes, Your Honor?"
"This is not the first time Sheriff Harlan's name has appeared in the materials currently under review."
The agent's expression changed slightly.
"Are you referring to the Bellwood County records?"
"Yes."
Harlan's head snapped toward them.
"What records?"
Evelyn looked at him.
"Records that you may be familiar with."
He let out a short laugh.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"That may be true."
"Then why are you making accusations?"
"I'm not making an accusation. I'm explaining why I was in Bellwood this morning."
Harlan's eyes narrowed.
"You came here to investigate me?"
Evelyn closed the notebook.
"I came here to review information. I had no intention of identifying myself unless necessary."
He stared at her.
"Then why didn't you tell me who you were?"
"Because you never gave me the opportunity."
The sheriff's face reddened.
Mitchell looked toward the other agent.
"Let's secure the recordings."
The second agent approached Deputy Reed, who had now entered the restaurant.
"Deputy, do you have an active body camera?"
"Yes."
"Has the recording been saved?"
"I believe so."
"Please ensure it is preserved."
Reed nodded.
Harlan suddenly raised his voice.
"This is my department's equipment. You don't get to walk in here and take whatever you want."
Mitchell turned.
"We will follow the appropriate legal procedures, Sheriff."
"Then get a warrant."
"That is an option."
Harlan looked satisfied for approximately half a second.
Then Mitchell added:
"However, the recordings are subject to immediate preservation. We have already requested that no files be deleted, modified, or overwritten."
The sheriff said nothing.
The woman in the green cardigan quietly placed her phone on the table.
"I'll provide my recording too."
The man near the counter raised his hand.
"Mine as well."
Frank Miller nodded.
"I have cameras covering the entire dining room."
Mitchell looked at him.
"Do they record audio?"
"Some of them do."