Chapter 7 - The Partner
His name was Detective Samuel Hart.
Brooks had worked beside him for eleven years.
They had investigated robberies together.
Homicides.
Missing persons.
They had attended each other’s family barbecues.
Hart had held Brooks’s wife’s hand at the hospital when she underwent cancer treatment.
Brooks had stood beside Hart at his father’s funeral.
And according to Dustin, Samuel Hart was Victor Raines’s most valuable source inside law enforcement.
Brooks said nothing for nearly a minute.
We were still inside the barn.
Dustin sat cuffed.
Lena stood under guard.
Evelyn leaned against me carefully because of her ribs.
Finally Brooks spoke.
“How do you know?”
Dustin answered.
“I delivered envelopes.”
“To Hart?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Six. Maybe seven.”
“When?”
“Last two years.”
Brooks stared at him.
“What was in them?”
“Cash.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe you delivered envelopes without checking?”
Dustin looked ashamed.
“Ten thousand. Sometimes twenty.”
Brooks stepped away.
I understood why.
Betrayal changes a man physically.
Shoulders.
Breathing.
Eyes.
He was replaying eleven years of memories.
Every failed investigation.
Every witness who disappeared.
Every warrant Victor somehow anticipated.
Every operation that arrived ten minutes too late.
Hart had been there.
Always.
Brooks turned back.
“Where are the records now?”
Dustin looked toward Lena.
She answered.
“We don’t know.”
Brooks laughed once.
No humor.
“That’s convenient.”
Lena shook her head.
“Victor knows Dustin copied them. Somebody emptied the locker yesterday.”
“Why would Hart take them?”
“To destroy them.”
“Or protect himself,” I said.
Brooks nodded slowly.
That possibility was worse.
If Hart had the only complete financial records linking Victor to bribery, he suddenly possessed leverage against both sides.
Victor needed him silent.
Police needed him alive.
And Hart might decide the safest solution was disappearing.
Brooks called the state investigators.
Hart’s phone was already off.
His cruiser sat outside headquarters.
His house was empty.
Wife visiting family in Tennessee.
Passport gone.
By afternoon, the state police and federal authorities were involved.
Dustin was transported under guard.
Lena agreed to cooperate.
Evelyn returned to the hospital, this time surrounded by enough security to protect a visiting president.
I stayed beside her.
For several hours, nothing happened.
Those were the longest hours.
People imagine crises as constant action.
Mostly, they’re waiting.
Waiting for phone calls.
Waiting for test results.
Waiting for somebody else to make a move.
At 4:17 p.m., Detective Brooks walked into Evelyn’s room.
He looked exhausted.
“We found Hart’s car.”
“Where?”
“Airport parking garage.”
“Did he fly?”
“No.”
That was strange.
“He left the car and got into another vehicle.”
“Whose?”
Brooks pulled out his phone.
Security image.
Black SUV.
Driver visible.
Victor Raines.
The man himself had picked up the corrupt detective.
Eleanor whispered, “Why?”
Brooks said, “That’s what we’re trying to understand.”
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone looked at it.
I answered.
“Mr. Carter.”
The voice was calm.
Older male.
Refined.
I didn’t need an introduction.
“Victor.”
“I appreciate efficiency.”
Brooks immediately motioned for the call to be traced.
Victor continued.
“My nephew has caused considerable inconvenience.”
“He put my daughter in the hospital.”
“Yes.”
The absence of emotion disturbed me more than denial would have.
“And I regret that.”
“You regret the inconvenience.”
Pause.
“You’re perceptive.”
“What do you want?”
“To meet.”
“No.”
“Then Detective Hart dies.”
Brooks’s face changed.
Victor knew he was there.
“You have Hart?”
“He made the unfortunate mistake of thinking stolen records would guarantee his safety.”
“What records?”
Victor laughed softly.
“Let’s not insult each other.”
I looked at Brooks.
He wrote on a notepad:
KEEP HIM TALKING
“Why call me?”
“Because everyone else has chosen a side.”
“And I haven’t?”
“No.”
Victor sounded almost amused.
“You chose your daughter.”
“That’s a side.”
“It’s a motive.”
I hated that he understood the distinction.
“What do you want?”
“Dustin took something from me.”
“He’s in custody.”
“I know.”
“Then talk to the police.”
“I am talking to the man who walked into a gym containing six fighters and locked the door behind himself.”
“Bad judgment.”
“Perhaps.”
Victor paused.
“But useful character.”
He gave an address.
Brooks immediately shook his head.
“Midnight,” Victor said.
“Come alone.”
“No.”
“Then Hart disappears forever, along with records that might help your daughter prove Dustin’s attack was part of something larger.”
“You think I care what happens to a corrupt detective?”
Brooks actually gave me a wounded look.
Victor replied, “No. But I think you care whether your daughter spends years looking over her shoulder.”
That was the first thing he had said that truly mattered.
“What guarantee do I have?”
“None.”
“Then you don’t know me very well.”
Victor became quiet.
When he spoke again, the politeness was gone.
“I know more about you than you imagine.”
The line disconnected.
Brooks grabbed my phone.
“Absolutely not.”
“I know.”
He blinked.
“You agree?”
“I’m old, not stupid.”
Eleanor muttered, “Debatable.”
For the first time that day, Evelyn smiled.
Tiny.
Painful.
But real.
Brooks said, “We’ll handle Victor.”
“How?”
“We use the meeting.”
“He said alone.”
“He’ll expect surveillance.”
“He’ll expect you to expect him to expect surveillance.”
Brooks rubbed his forehead.
“I hate people with military backgrounds.”
“Everybody says that eventually.”
That evening, a plan formed.
I would go.
Not alone.
Not really.
No weapons.
No attempt to confront Victor.
Just enough cooperation to keep him talking while investigators watched from distance.
But shortly before midnight, something happened nobody anticipated.
Dustin asked to speak to me.
Alone.
I refused.
So did Brooks.
Dustin insisted.
Eventually they brought him into an interview room with cameras running.
He sat across from me wearing county-issued clothes.
The arrogance was gone.
For the first time, he looked twenty-eight.
Young.
Scared.
Small.
He stared at his hands.
“I loved Evelyn.”
I said nothing.
“I know you don’t believe that.”
“You hurt people you believe belong to you. That isn’t love.”
He closed his eyes.
A tear slid down his cheek.
“I know that now.”
“Knowing after you nearly kill someone doesn’t erase anything.”
“I know.”
We sat silently.
Then he looked up.
“My uncle isn’t going to the meeting.”
“What?”
“He never goes himself.”
“Then who will?”
Dustin swallowed.
“His brother.”
“Your father?”
Dustin nodded.
I hadn’t known Victor had a brother.
“What’s his name?”
“Raymond.”
“Why does that matter?”
Dustin looked terrified.
“Because Victor handles business.”
He leaned closer.
“My father handles people.”
And at that exact moment, Brooks opened the door.
“Meeting changed.”
“How?”
He held up his phone.
A live traffic camera showed a convoy of black vehicles moving toward town.
Six SUVs.
One sedan.
Brooks looked at Dustin.
“Victor isn’t sending his brother.”
Dustin stared at the screen.
Then whispered:
May you like
“He’s sending everyone.”
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