"The moment you decide how your life ends, Officer Callahan. You tase me, I sue you. You shoot me, my team outside turns this place into Swiss cheese. Or you put the weapon down and we talk about a plea deal." Bryce's hand shook.
He looked at the chief. The chief had turned his back on him. Bryce lowered the taser. "Uncuff them," Garrick repeated.
Riley rushed forward and unlocked the cuffs. Kendrick rubbed his wrists. He didn't attack Bryce. He didn't yell.
He simply reached over the counter, took his phone from the plastic bin, and turned it on. "I need to make a call," Kendrick said. "Go ahead," Garrick said, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. "Office line is open." "I don't need your line," Kendrick said.
He dialed a number on his cell. He put it on speaker. The room was silent. "Director's office," a woman's voice answered.
"Patricia, it's Kendrick Voss. Code Red, Pine Creek, Alabama." "Code Red?" The voice on the other end sharpened instantly.
"Status of Agent Voss and Prosecutor Voss?" "Secure, but we have been compromised. Local law enforcement intercepted us. I was held at gunpoint. Illegal search and seizure. False imprisonment."
"Are you safe now?" "For the moment, but I need the team. Bring everyone."
"ETA is minutes. They're holding at the perimeter. Sit tight, Kendrick." The line clicked dead.
Kendrick looked at Bryce Callahan. Bryce was leaning against the filing cabinet, looking like he was about to vomit. "They'll be here soon," Kendrick said. "I'd suggest you start writing your resignation letter, though you won't be needing it where you're going." Minutes is a long time in a quiet police station.
It's enough time to think about every mistake you've ever made. Bryce Callahan sat in a chair in the corner of the booking room. No one was speaking to him. His fellow officers, Riley, Tara, even old Sergeant Frank, had subconsciously moved to the other side of the room, distancing themselves from the blast radius.
Kendrick and Serena sat on a metal bench, composed. Serena had taken a notebook out of her purse and was writing furiously. Every few seconds she would look up, look at Bryce, and make a note. "What are you writing?" Bryce asked, his voice a rasp.
"Your indictment," Serena said without looking up. "I'm adding a count for the threat of the strip search. Sexual harassment under color of law adds a nice 5 years to the sentence." "You can't prove that," Bryce mumbled.
"It's my word against yours." "Actually," Officer Tara spoke up. "I'll testify to it." Bryce's head snapped up.
"Tara, you'd rat on a brother?" "You're not a brother, Bryce," Tara said, her voice shaking but firm.
"You're a bully. And you almost got us all killed today. I'm not going to prison for you." "Traitors," Bryce spat.
"All of you." Suddenly, the coffee in the mug on Sergeant Frank's desk rippled. A low thrumming sound began to vibrate through the floorboards. It started soft, like distant thunder, and grew louder.
"What is that?" Riley moved to the window. "Helicopter," Garrick said, staring at the floor. Then came the sirens.
Not the wail of a single cruiser, but a cacophony. It sounded like an invasion. Tires screeched outside. Doors slammed.
Lots of doors. "Open the gate." A voice amplified by a loudspeaker boomed from outside the sally port.
"This is the FBI. Open the gate immediately or we will breach." Sergeant Frank fumbled for the button. He hit it.
The heavy metal door rolled up. The sunlight that flooded in was blinding, but the silhouettes standing in it were terrifying. Six men in full tactical gear carrying rifles moved in a phalanx. On their chests, bold yellow letters, FBI.
Behind them walked a woman in a sharp gray suit flanked by two state troopers. This was Assistant Director Margaret Hale. She looked like she ate nails for breakfast. "Secure the room," the lead tactical officer shouted.
The team swept in. "Hands. Let me see hands." Every officer in the Pine Creek station, Garrick, Riley, Tara, Frank, put their hands up, even Bryce.
The tactical team moved with fluid precision. They bypassed the locals and went straight to Kendrick and Serena. "Sir, ma'am, are you injured?" the lead agent asked, lowering his weapon but keeping his eyes scanning the room. "We're fine, Agent Rostova," Kendrick said, standing up and brushing the dust off his trousers.
"Situation is contained." Assistant Director Hale walked into the room. She surveyed the scene with a look of absolute disgust. She locked eyes with Chief Garrick.
"Who is in charge here?" she demanded. "I... I am," Garrick stammered. "Chief Wade Garrick." "Chief Garrick," Hale said, stepping into his personal space.
"You are relieved of command effective immediately. The Alabama State Bureau of Investigation is taking over this precinct. This is now a federal crime scene." "On what grounds?" Garrick tried to muster some authority.
"On the grounds that your department is running a protection racket for Langley's personal injury law firm and kickbacks to local law enforcement," Kendrick interrupted.
"We have the wiretaps, Wade. We have the bank records. We know about the kickbacks. We know about the planted evidence." Kendrick turned his gaze to Bryce.
"And we know about Officer Callahan's enforcement techniques." Hale turned to look at Bryce. "Is this the one?" "That's him," Serena said, standing up.
She pointed a manicured finger at Bryce. "Officer Bryce Callahan. He initiated the stop without probable cause, assaulted a federal officer, filed a false report, attempted to conduct an illegal strip search, and brandished a taser against detained suspects." Hale nodded.
She gestured to the tactical team. "Cuff him." Two agents grabbed Bryce. They didn't do it gently.
They secured Bryce against the wall, mirroring the forceful treatment he had used on Kendrick earlier. "Hey, watch the shoulder," Bryce yelped. "You have the right to remain silent," Agent Rostova recited as the restraints were secured around Bryce's wrists. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a federal court of law." "This is a mistake," Bryce shouted as they hauled him toward the door.
"I was just doing my job. They looked suspicious. It was a good stop." Kendrick walked over to Bryce as he was being dragged out.
He leaned in close. "You wanted to find drugs in my car, Bryce?" Kendrick asked softly.
"You wanted to be a hero? Well, you're going to be famous. You're going to be the face of police corruption in the state of Alabama." "Screw you," Bryce spit at him.
Kendrick wiped a speck of saliva from his cheek. He didn't flinch. "Get him out of here," Kendrick said. As Bryce was shoved into the back of a black federal SUV, a cage much smaller and darker than his own cruiser, he saw them.
The media. News vans were pulling up. CNN, Fox News, local affiliates. The FBI didn't just bring guns, they brought the spotlight.