No. He enlarged a satellite image. Traffic accident on Highway 27. Malcolm's smile disappeared. How bad?
You just lost 8 minutes. The vehicle fell silent. 8 minutes. To ordinary travelers, nothing. To an undercover agent surrounded by corrupt officers, it felt like forever.
Back in Red Creek, Travis looked toward the growing crowd. More people had arrived. Nobody spoke. Some pretended to fuel their cars. Others stood outside nearby businesses.
Watching. Waiting. Recording quietly from inside vehicles. Anonymous calls to dispatch continued arriving every few minutes. He could feel control slipping away.
That made him dangerous. He stepped directly in front of Nia. I'm getting tired of your attitude. I haven't said much. Exactly.
He pointed toward her face. Normal people get scared. I've met worse. Ryan laughed. Listen to that.
Travis tilted his head. Worse than us? Nia remained silent. He smiled coldly. I'll fix that.
Without warning, he reached into her tote bag. He dumped everything onto the pavement. A notebook. Pens. A bottle of water.
Receipts. A folded road map. Nothing unusual. Ryan kicked the notebook toward Eric. Maybe she's writing a novel.
Eric flipped through several pages. Handwritten notes. Street names. Business hours. License plate numbers.
Officer shift changes. His smile slowly disappeared. Travis. What? This is He hesitated.
A lot of notes. Travis grabbed the notebook. The first several pages looked harmless. Look Local restaurants, church schedules, town festivals. Then he turned another page.
His expression changed. One sentence had been circled. Never confront before identifying the complete chain. No names, no agency. Just that sentence.
Another page. Document patterns, not incidents. Another. One arrest is evidence. Repeated behavior becomes a conspiracy.