Miller smiled bitterly.
"Because from inside the prison, he could control the operation without attracting attention."
Carter shook his head.
"That doesn't make sense."
Miller looked at him.
"It makes perfect sense if you understand the people involved."
He continued.
"Reynolds was convicted publicly. His business was supposedly dismantled. His associates were supposedly arrested."
"But?"
"But the money kept moving."
Carter looked down.
"How?"
Miller pointed toward the financial records.
"Through his brother."
Carter remembered the name.
Michael Reynolds.
The inmate in protective custody.
"Michael controls the company?"
Miller nodded.
"Officially, yes."
"And Tank?"
"Tank controls Michael."
Carter sat silently.
Everything was beginning to fit together.
The basketball court.
The threats.
The way inmates obeyed Tank.
The way officers avoided confronting him.
The missing reports.
The warden's strange behavior.
It wasn't simply an inmate controlling a prison yard.
It was a criminal organization operating inside a correctional facility.
And Tank Reynolds was at the center of it.
CHAPTER 10 — THE MESSAGE
At 7:40 a.m., Carter returned to Blackwood.
He entered through the staff entrance and immediately noticed something unusual.
Two officers were waiting near the security desk.
One approached him.
"Officer Carter?"
"Yes?"
"The warden wants to see you."
Carter nodded.
"Did he say why?"
"No."
Carter continued toward the administration building.
But before reaching Whitaker's office, his phone vibrated.
An encrypted message.
It contained a photograph.
The photograph showed James Miller sitting on the bench at the bus terminal.
Taken only minutes earlier.
Below it was a message.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT HIM ALONE.
Carter stopped walking.
Another message arrived.
NOW WE KNOW YOU HAVE THE FILES.
He looked around.
Nobody seemed to be paying attention.
Then a third message appeared.
ASK REYNOLDS WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS BROTHER.
Carter slowly put his phone away.
He understood the warning.
Someone knew about the meeting.
Someone knew about the USB drive.
And someone wanted him to know that they were watching.
He entered Whitaker's office.
The warden was standing behind his desk.
Tank Reynolds was not there.
But another person was.
Deputy Commissioner Robert Hayes.
The senior official looked at Carter.
Then he smiled.
"Officer Daniel Carter."
Carter stopped.
"Sir."
Hayes gestured toward a chair.
"Please. Sit down."
Carter remained standing.
Hayes glanced at Whitaker.
Then back at Carter.
"I understand you've been asking a lot of questions lately."
Carter didn't answer.
Hayes continued.
"Questions about inmate transportation. Questions about financial records. Questions about personnel."
Carter looked directly at him.
"Is there a problem with that?"
Hayes smiled.
"Not necessarily."
He opened a folder.
"But there is a problem when an officer becomes so distracted by investigations that he forgets his responsibilities."
Carter looked at the document.
Another transfer order.
His name was printed at the top.
Hayes pushed it across the desk.
"Your reassignment is effective immediately."
Carter looked at the signature.
Whitaker.
Then Hayes.
"Am I being transferred because of the reports I submitted?"
Hayes laughed softly.
"You're being transferred because the department has decided it's in everyone's best interest."
Carter nodded slowly.
Then he asked:
"Does that include the eleven inmates who disappeared?"
The room went silent.
Whitaker stopped moving.
Hayes's smile disappeared.
Carter looked directly at him.
"Or the unauthorized transportation contracts?"
Nobody answered.
Then Hayes slowly closed the folder.
"Officer Carter."
"Sir?"
"Be very careful about the words you use."
Carter nodded.
"Of course."
Hayes leaned forward.
"You have a promising career. Don't throw it away."
Carter looked at him.
"Is that advice?"
Hayes smiled.
"Consider it a warning."
Carter turned toward the door.
Then he stopped.
"One more thing, sir."
Hayes looked up.
"What?"
Carter slowly removed a small black device from his pocket.
A recording device.
He placed it on the desk.
"That's a copy of the conversation."
Whitaker stared.