Then Elena remembered one detail from Tomas’s final call.
“He said there was an old billboard.”
Marcus asked what kind.
“White paint.”
“Half broken.”
“Near an abandoned weigh station.”
Federal analysts mapped Exit 117.
The location was almost perfect for corruption.
Long sight lines.
Few public cameras.
Miles before the next major service center.
A patrol cruiser could sit partially hidden behind the billboard and choose trucks during traffic gaps.
Marcus adjusted his route.
At 12:17 on the following Tuesday, a white Juniper County cruiser pulled onto the shoulder beneath the billboard.
Its emergency lights activated before Marcus reached the next mile marker.
Now Rourke stood beside his door demanding twenty-five hundred dollars.
Marcus let the silence stretch.
“So that money goes to the county?”
Rourke smiled.
“It keeps the county from becoming your problem.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Rourke glanced toward Eli.
Then back at Marcus.
“You want to argue paperwork until dark?”
“I want to know what I’m paying for.”
“Roadside resolution.”
“Receipt?”
Rourke laughed.
“Your receipt is driving away.”
Inside the surveillance van, Dana Cho marked another timestamp.
Michael Grant whispered, “There.”
Marcus continued.
“What happens if I don’t pay?”
Rourke rested one hand against the truck door.
“We impound the tractor and trailer.”
“For what violation?”
“Whatever survives inspection.”
Marcus looked toward the sealed refrigerated trailer.
“How long?”
“Could be thirty days.”
“That would bankrupt me.”
Rourke’s smile became almost friendly.
“Now you understand why twenty-five hundred is cheap.”
Marcus pretended to think.
“And my cargo?”
“You get back whatever’s still good.”
“What if something disappears?”