"Yes."
Crowe said nothing.
Ruiz leaned forward.
"Your problem isn't that you don't know what the file is."
Crowe looked at her.
"Your problem is that you know exactly what it is."
Crowe's expression hardened.
"I want my attorney."
Ruiz stood.
"Fine."
She collected the photographs.
At the door, she stopped.
"One thing."
Crowe looked up.
"Why did you say Mr. Bell should not have the number?"
Crowe didn't answer.
Ruiz left.
The door closed.
Crowe sat alone.
He looked at the table.
Then at the camera.
For the first time, he looked afraid.
At 9:32, Lieutenant Mark Harris walked into the Mercer Ridge Police Department.
He was supposed to be on leave.
But he walked through the front doors as if nothing had happened.
The dispatcher looked up.
"Lieutenant?"
Harris smiled.
"Morning."
"You're back?"
"Apparently."
He walked toward the administrative wing.
Nobody stopped him.
That was his mistake.
Because the department was no longer operating normally.
Federal agents were already inside.
Harris reached the hallway.
Ruiz stepped out.
"Lieutenant Harris."
Harris stopped.
"Agent."
"You weren't expected."
"I work here."
"You're on administrative leave."
"I was cleared."
"By whom?"
Harris smiled.
"The chief."
Ruiz looked at him.
"The chief didn't clear you."
Harris's smile disappeared.
Two agents appeared behind him.
Harris slowly raised his hands.
Ruiz said:
"Where is the second evidence room?"
Harris stared at her.
For the first time, his face gave away the answer.
Ruiz didn't need him to speak.
She already knew.
Harris looked toward the floor.
Then back at her.
"You have no idea what you're dealing with."
Ruiz stepped closer.
"Then tell me."
Harris shook his head.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because if I tell you, people die."
Ruiz stared at him.
"People are already in danger."
Harris looked at her.
Then quietly said:
"Not because of the evidence."
"Then because of what?"
Harris swallowed.
"Because of who paid for it."
The second evidence room wasn't on any building plan.
That was the first thing Hale told Ruiz.
The room had been created years earlier when the department renovated the old courthouse annex.
A section beneath the basement had been sealed.
Officially, it was an abandoned utility space.
Unofficially, it had been converted into a storage facility.
Only six people had access.
Two were dead.
One was retired.
One was Harris.
One was a civilian systems administrator.
And the sixth was someone Ruiz had not yet identified.
They found the entrance behind a false wall.
The door required a physical key.
Harris had one.
He refused to hand it over.
Ruiz didn't argue.
She simply obtained a warrant.
At 11:14 a.m., the wall was opened.
Behind it was a narrow concrete corridor.
No cameras.
No electronic locks.
No database.
No record.
At the end was a steel door.
Harris stood behind the agents.
He looked at it.
Then said:
"You're making a mistake."
Ruiz turned.
"What?"
"Once you open that door, this isn't a police corruption case anymore."
"What is it?"
Harris stared at the door.
"A federal intelligence case."
The door opened.
Inside were shelves.
Boxes.
Hard drives.
Files.
Photographs.
Phones.
Evidence bags.
And dozens of envelopes.
Each marked with a case number.
Some local.
Some federal.
Some sealed.
Some that had never officially existed.
Ruiz stepped inside.
She picked up one envelope.
The number matched the one in Arthur Bell's toolbox.
She looked at Harris.
"Why did you recognize the number?"
Harris said nothing.
Ruiz opened another box.
Inside were photographs.
Judges.
Prosecutors.
Police officers.
Witnesses.
Journalists.
Defense attorneys.
Ordinary citizens.
People who had never known they were being watched.
Arthur Bell was there.
So was Detective Hale.
And so was Elena Ruiz.
Her photograph had been taken three weeks earlier.
Outside the federal courthouse.
Ruiz stared at it.
The room became completely silent.
Harris looked at her.
"Now you understand."
Ruiz turned toward him.
"No."
She put the photograph down.
"Now I understand how scared you are."
Harris looked away.
Ruiz continued:
"I still don't know who runs this."
Harris didn't answer.
Then someone behind them spoke.
"You do now."
Everyone turned.
Daniel Crowe stood at the doorway.
He was no longer wearing his police uniform.
He had been released into federal custody under supervision.
He looked at Harris.
Then at Ruiz.
Then at the evidence shelves.
"The person who runs this isn't in the department."
Ruiz narrowed her eyes.
"Who?"
Crowe looked at Harris.
Harris closed his eyes.
Crowe said:
"He's in the state attorney general's office."
No one moved.
Crowe continued.
"And he's been using the department for years."
Ruiz stared at him.
"Name."
Crowe took a breath.
Then said:
"Deputy Attorney General Richard Voss."
The name changed everything.
Not because Voss was powerful.
Because Voss was trusted.
He had testified before the legislature.
He had appeared on television.
He had spoken publicly about police accountability.
He had helped create the very task force investigating corruption.
And according to Crowe, he had also been using that task force to identify anyone inside law enforcement who could threaten his network.