Angela kept her eyes forward, maintaining her composure. Years of combat medical training had taught her that reaction only encouraged aggressors. What's wrong? Griggs taunted. Not so talkative now without your audience of neighbors?
He rattled the cell bars with his baton. Captain Holt's building quite a case against you. Obstruction, resisting arrest, inciting civil unrest. Could be looking at serious time. Down the corridor, she heard Captain Holt's voice speaking to someone.
Make sure those phone videos are secured as evidence. We can't have people spreading misleading footage that could compromise our investigation. Angela's jaw tightened. She knew exactly what would happen to that footage. It would conveniently disappear, just like other evidence of police misconduct in the past.
Meanwhile, Marcus's plane touched down at Reynolds Regional Airport, 30 miles from Brookside Street. He moved with purposeful efficiency through the terminal, already on his phone. "Listen carefully, Jack," he said to his journalist contact at the Metro Daily. "I'm sending you documents about Vision Heights Development Company. They've been buying up properties in working-class neighborhoods using questionable tactics.
I need you to dig into their connection to the police department, specifically Captain Darren Holt. " Marcus climbed into his rental car, Bluetooth connecting automatically. "Yes, I'm sure. My wife just got arrested for interfering with their latest land grab. Time to shine some light on this operation. " His next call was to Commander Sarah Maxwell at the Judge Advocate General's Office. "Sarah, I need everything you can find about police jurisdiction over military family housing.
Yes, it's urgent. They entered our property without a warrant. " Back at the station, two detectives led Angela to an interrogation room. The younger one, Detective Phillips, tried to play good cop. "Look, Mrs. Brooks, we can make this easier.
Just tell us about the fugitive, and maybe we can work something out. " Angela focused on memorizing details instead of responding. The room number, 2B. The time on the wall clock, 10:47 p.m. The coffee stain on Phillips's tie. Every detail could matter later.
The older detective, Martinez, slammed his hand on the table. Your husband's military status won't help you here. This is local jurisdiction. Angela finally spoke, her voice steady. I want my lawyer present for any questions.
Sure, waste everyone's time, Martinez growled. Meanwhile, those charges keep piling up. Captain Holt's got witnesses saying you tried to turn the neighborhood against his officers. Angela noted the threat in his tone. The way he emphasized Holt's name.
More details for later. On the highway, Marcus was still working his phone. His contact at the county records office had sent property documents showing recent sales around Brookside Street. The pattern was clear. Homes purchased well below market value after owners reported police harassment.
Send me everything on Vision Heights board members, he told his investigator friend. Tax records, political donations, business partnerships. If Holt's getting kickbacks, we'll find them. The holding cell felt colder when Angela returned. Officer Griggs had cranked up the air conditioning, a common tactic to make detainees uncomfortable.