Harrison asked David to come to the station and give a formal statement after he took his parents home. Otus immediately refused. He stood despite the pain in his shoulder. "We go now.
I want to see this through. David studied him for a moment. "You sure, Pop?"
"I'm sure," Otus said. He looked toward the midnight-blue Denali. "And I'm driving my truck there. That sentence mattered to him.
A few hours earlier, the truck had been a symbol of celebration. Miller had tried to turn it into proof of guilt. Otus was determined to take that meaning back.
The Pine Bluff Police Station was buzzing when they arrived. Word had already spread that Greg "Buck" Miller had been brought in by the chief himself. Miller sat in interrogation room B without his duty belt or badge. The swagger that had filled the parking lot was gone. In its place was a sullen, trapped glare.
On the other side of the glass, David stood with Jenkins and Harrison. "He's not talking," Harrison said. "He asked for his union representative. Jenkins held up a file. "The union rep is the least of his problems now."
A search of Miller's locker and personal vehicle had turned up more troubling evidence. Investigators found seized items that had never been properly logged, along with several unregistered handguns. Jenkins said the discovery suggested that Miller's misconduct might extend well beyond extortion and theft. "Your father's stop may have cracked open something we've been trying to understand for years," she told David.
The viewing-room door opened. A slick-looking man in a cheap suit entered and introduced himself as Gerald Vans, Miller's union representative. He looked sweaty and irritated. "Chief, you can't keep him in there like this. The notebook is circumstantial. The cash could have been borrowed or found."
David turned toward him. "Borrowed from a 70-year-old man he assaulted? Gerald paused when he noticed the uniform. "And who are you? "I'm the son of the man he assaulted," David said. "And I witnessed what happened after I arrived."
Gerald loosened his tie. "Let's make a deal. Miller resigns. He walks away from the department and gives up his pension. You drop the felony charges and we avoid a media circus.
Jenkins rejected the suggestion immediately. "No deal. We have the video, the notebook, the recovered property, and the evidence from his locker. This goes through the proper process."
Gerald warned that Miller would talk if pushed, that he would drag the department through the mud and blame quotas, supervisors, and everyone around him. David did not hesitate. "Then let him talk. If there are other dirty cops, they should be found too. Harrison looked from David to Gerald and made his decision. "No deals."
Gerald tried a different argument, saying the bias in the stop could not be proved. David answered quietly. Miller had used racially demeaning language toward his father, explicitly said he did not believe the couple could afford the truck, and treated their ownership as suspicious without checking the documents that were sitting inside the vehicle. "Call it whatever you want," David said. "A jury is going to see those bruises and hear those words."
Gerald glanced through the glass at Miller, who sat with his head in his hands. The confidence drained from the union representative's face. "I need to make a call," he said, backing out of the room. Nobody stopped him.
Inside the interrogation room, Miller suddenly looked toward the mirror. He could not see who was behind it, but he knew they were there. He slammed his fist against the table. "I run this town!
You can't do this to me. Harrison, I know where you live! Jenkins wrote something on her pad. "Add communicating threats to the report."
David watched Miller unravel. It was not enough to see him frightened. What mattered was making sure he never used a position of authority the same way again. David asked what would happen to Kinsley. Harrison explained that the rookie had given a full statement and corroborated much of what happened.
Kinsley admitted that Miller had urged him to be rough with Martha. He said he had refused the direct instruction but failed to stop Miller from mistreating Otus. Harrison said the rookie would face suspension, retraining, and probation. Because he had cooperated fully and become a state's witness, he was unlikely to face jail. David nodded once. Mercy for the man who hesitated, accountability for the man who acted.
Then David's phone buzzed. The video recorded by the young woman in the parking lot had been uploaded online. In 40 minutes, it already had tens of thousands of views. The title was sensational, but the footage itself needed no exaggeration.
Harrison looked at the number climbing on the screen and sighed. "My phone is about to start ringing. As if on cue, the station's main line rang. Then another phone. Then another. Within minutes, the precinct was filled with the sound of incoming calls.
David left the viewing room and found his parents sitting together in the lobby. Otus still had an ice pack on his shoulder. Martha held a cup of tea that a sergeant had brought her. They were holding hands.
"He's not getting out tonight," David told them. "But this isn't over. There'll be hearings, lawyers, people trying to rewrite what happened. Martha's face tightened.
"Is it going to be bad? "It may be hard," David said. "They'll try to say you provoked him. They may attack your character."
Otus sat up straighter. "Let them try. I have the truth. I have the Lord, and I have the United States Marine Corps on my side. David smiled, warm and genuine for the first time that day. "Damn right you do, Pop."
They were preparing to leave when a man in a sharp, expensive suit walked into the station lobby. He was carrying a polished briefcase and moved with the confidence of someone accustomed to being obeyed. He introduced himself as Richard Sterling, attorney for Officer Gregory Miller. Unlike the union representative, Sterling was not local.
He was known for defending high-profile officials and burying opponents under procedural pressure. His suit was Italian, his watch cost more than many people in Pine Bluff earned in months, and his voice was smooth. "My client has rights," Sterling announced. "Holding him without bail on these charges is a due-process issue."
David stepped between Sterling and his parents. Sterling looked him over without visible concern. "Captain, your presence here is already creating pressure on this department. You are personally connected to the complainants. Then he turned toward Harrison. "I want my client presented for bond immediately."
For a moment, it looked like money and influence might rescue Miller before the case had even begun. A judge was contacted, Judge Halloway, a man with professional ties to Sterling's firm. Within two hours, bail was set at $50,000. Sterling posted it immediately with a cashier's check.
Greg Miller walked out of the holding area in civilian clothes. The smugness had returned just enough to be recognizable. As he passed David in the hallway, he leaned closer. "You can't win, soldier.
I've got people who make sure I don't fall. Enjoy your leave. Watch your back."
Otus looked crushed as Miller walked through the front doors. "Is that it? He just walks away? David's jaw tightened. "He's not walking away, Pop. He's walking into a trap he built himself."