A bad stop." Sloan echoed softly. "That bad stop carries a mandatory minimum of 10 years in a federal penitentiary for aggravated assault on a federal officer, brandishing a firearm during the commission of a felony, and deprivation of civil rights under color of law." Marshal Gibson pulled a pair of heavy, oversized federal handcuffs from his vest. Unlike Haynes's standard cuffs, these were connected by a thick, rigid hinge, preventing any movement of the hands.
"Stand up, Haynes." Gibson ordered, hauling the weeping officer to his feet. He wrenched Haynes's arms behind his back, the rigid cuffs clicking aggressively into place. "You're under arrest." Across the highway, one of the FBI agents was speaking gently with rookie Officer Davis.
Davis was vigorously nodding his head, frantically pointing to the dash camera mounted in his cruiser, and tapping his own chest. Callahan looked over at the rookie, then back to Haynes. "Looks like your partner just volunteered to turn over the dash cam and body cam footage. He's very eager to cooperate. Funny how fast loyalty vanishes when federal prison is on the table."
Haynes was sobbing now, his chest heaving as Gibson dragged him toward the back of one of the black Tahoes. The imposing marshal popped the rear hatch, shoved the disgraced cop into the back, and slammed the heavy door shut, sealing Haynes in the dark. The dust on Route 66 was finally beginning to settle. The flashing red and blue lights painted the desert landscape in chaotic rhythmic strokes. Callahan let out a long sigh, running a hand through his silver hair.
He looked at Sloan. "You handled that perfectly, Jenkins. Most agents would have panicked. You kept him talking until we got the ping." "I couldn't draw on him, Bobby," Sloan said quietly, looking at the black SUV holding Haynes.
"If I had reached for my piece, he would have fired. He was looking for a reason. I saw it in his eyes." "I know," Callahan said softly. "But he picked the wrong woman on the wrong day.
Come on, let's get you in a Tahoe. Someone else can drive your fleet car back to Phoenix. You've earned a ride in the air conditioning." Sloan nodded, exhausted but deeply satisfied. As she walked toward the waiting SUV, she glanced back at the flashing lights of Haynes' abandoned cruiser.
The highway was quiet again, the brutal Arizona sun beating down on the empty road. Justice out here was rarely swift, and it was rarely caught on camera. But today the trap had worked flawlessly. The predator had become the prey, brought down by his own blind arrogance.