Ruth Ann's voice cut through it all. 30,000 watching now. The whole world sees what you're doing. Elijah kept his eyes forward, his expression neutral. Let them think the smoke was a malfunction.
Let them believe their equipment failures were random. Let them drag him away in handcuffs while their carefully constructed operation crumbled around them. Every moment was recorded. Every action caught on multiple cameras. Every badge number and face logged in his memory with sniper's precision.
He'd trained for years to maintain control in chaos. This was just another mission. And these corrupt deputies had no idea they'd stepped into his kill zone. Through the swirling smoke, Elijah caught Mercer's troubled gaze one final time. The young deputy's hand brushed his body camera unconsciously, understanding dawning in his eyes.
Evidence was being gathered. Justice would come, but not through violence, through truth, through exposure, through the very system they thought they controlled. The patrol SUV's interior felt like a sauna. Thick Georgia heat trapped behind bulletproof glass. Elijah sat quietly in the back, hands cuffed behind him, watching deputies argue through the metal partition.
Nothing's working. The deputy in the passenger seat slapped his tablet in frustration. Can't process the federal verification forms without signal. Try the satellite backup, another suggested, fiddling with his radio that produced only static. Already did.
Systems completely down. The deputy twisted around to glare at Elijah. What did you do to our equipment? Elijah shrugged his broad shoulders, the movement deliberate and slow. Technology can be unreliable out here in the country.
Outside, the white smoke that had poured from his barn began to dissipate. Deputies milled around in confusion, their formation scattered. Body cameras blinked silently on their chests, recording everything. Those cameras still working? Elijah asked mildly.
Interesting system you've got there. Auto uploads to secure servers, doesn't it? Lots of departments do that now. Prevents footage from getting lost. The deputies exchanged uneasy glances.
Through the windshield, Elijah could see Ruth Ann Carter still on her porch, phone held high as she narrated events for her growing audience. 25,000 viewers now, she called out. 30,000. Keep watching, folks. Show the world what these boys in badges are doing to an innocent man's property.
Sheriff Kerns stalked over to the SUV, face flushed red with anger and heat. He yanked open the driver's door. What's the hold up with processing? Systems are down, sir. Can't verify the federal paperwork or run his prints.
Nothing's going through. Then call it in. Phones are dead, too. Some kind of interference. Kerns slammed his fist against the hood.