TACTICAL TEAM LEADER:
“We'll include that in the initial evidence request.”
SIMONE HARTWELL:
“And make sure the vehicle's location data is preserved. The truck has already been inspected for mechanical damage.”
Marcus looked at her.
MARCUS HARTWELL:
“You mean the brakes?”
SIMONE HARTWELL:
“Yes.”
The team leader turned toward Marcus.
TACTICAL TEAM LEADER:
“Sir, could you explain what happened to the vehicle?”
Marcus took a breath.
MARCUS HARTWELL:
“Someone damaged the brake lines a few weeks ago. I nearly lost control on a downhill road. My daughter came home to check the truck before I used it again.”
TACTICAL TEAM LEADER:
“Was the damage reported?”
MARCUS HARTWELL:
“Yes. I contacted the local authorities, but nothing came of it.”
Simone looked toward the officer.
SIMONE HARTWELL:
“That is another matter that needs to be reviewed.”
Kessler suddenly interrupted.
WADE KESSLER:
“You can't connect every problem in this county to me.”
SIMONE HARTWELL:
“I haven't.”
WADE KESSLER:
“You're making accusations.”
SIMONE HARTWELL:
“I'm describing events and asking for records.”
The team leader nodded.
TACTICAL TEAM LEADER:
“We will document the information provided and refer it through the appropriate channels.”
Kessler looked increasingly cornered.
He had thought the situation would end with a frightened woman in handcuffs and an elderly man who would be too intimidated to complain.
Instead, the roadside had become a carefully documented scene surrounded by federal personnel.
He glanced at the tactical operators again.
Several red points of light suddenly appeared across the front of his uniform and the side of his cap.
Kessler froze.
He looked down at his chest.
Then he turned his head.
More red dots were visible across his face.
His eyes widened.
WADE KESSLER:
“What the hell is that?”
The team leader remained composed.
TACTICAL TEAM LEADER:
“Remain still.”
Kessler's breathing became noticeably quicker.
WADE KESSLER:
“Get those things off me!”
TACTICAL TEAM LEADER:
“Do not make sudden movements.”
Kessler looked toward Simone.
WADE KESSLER:
“What did you do?”
SIMONE HARTWELL:
“Nothing.”
WADE KESSLER:
“Tell them to stop!”
SIMONE HARTWELL:
“You're speaking to the wrong person.”
The officer looked from the laser dots to the tactical operators.
He finally understood that the situation was no longer something he could control by raising his voice.
The weapon in his hand had not made him powerful.
It had made him the center of an incident that was now being observed by people far beyond his department.
Marcus stood close to his daughter.
MARCUS HARTWELL:
“Simone, what are those lights?”
SIMONE HARTWELL:
“Targeting indicators. Stay calm, Dad.”
Kessler heard her answer.
His face became pale.
WADE KESSLER:
“Targeting?”
SIMONE HARTWELL:
“Just keep your movements controlled.”
Kessler looked at the team leader.
WADE KESSLER:
“Are your people aiming at me?”
TACTICAL TEAM LEADER:
“Maintain your position and follow instructions.”
Kessler's grip tightened around his handgun.
The team leader immediately noticed.
TACTICAL TEAM LEADER:
“Officer, keep the weapon pointed away from everyone and follow the safety instructions.”
Simone watched the officer carefully.
SIMONE HARTWELL:
“Wade, this is the moment when you should make a sensible decision.”
Kessler stared at her.
WADE KESSLER:
“Don't tell me what to do.”
SIMONE HARTWELL:
“Then listen to the people who are trying to prevent this situation from getting worse.”
The officer's expression shifted again.
For the first time, he seemed to understand that the woman he had threatened was no longer asking him for anything.
She was giving him a chance to stop making the situation worse.
But Kessler had spent too many years confusing authority with control.
He was not ready to accept that someone else could determine what happened next.
The radio on his shoulder suddenly crackled.
DISPATCH:
“Unit Twelve, respond immediately. We have an urgent request from your department.”
Kessler looked at the radio.
WADE KESSLER:
“Go ahead.”
DISPATCH:
“Your supervisor is requesting an update. He wants to know why federal personnel are at your location.”
Kessler's face tightened.
He looked toward Simone.
Then toward the tactical team.
WADE KESSLER:
“I need to speak to my supervisor.”
TACTICAL TEAM LEADER:
“You can communicate through the appropriate channels once the scene is secure.”
Kessler pressed the radio anyway.
WADE KESSLER:
“Tell Captain Reeves I need him here immediately.”
DISPATCH:
“Copy. Captain Reeves has already been notified.”
The transmission ended.
Simone looked at the radio.
Captain Reeves.
The name was familiar.
She had seen it in a document relating to the Hartwell property dispute.
It had appeared beside the names of several local officials who had attended meetings with the developers.
She did not react visibly.
But the information changed her understanding of the situation.
Kessler might not have been acting alone.
And the person he wanted to contact could be directly connected to the pressure on her father's property.
SIMONE HARTWELL:
“Captain Reeves?”
Kessler looked at her.
WADE KESSLER:
“What about him?”
SIMONE HARTWELL:
“Why does he need to come here?”
WADE KESSLER:
“Because he's my supervisor.”
SIMONE HARTWELL:
“Then I'm sure he'll be able to explain the original reason for this stop.”