No property logs.
No receipts.
Officers denied everything.
Drivers often waited days before complaining because many initially wondered whether the property had been officially seized.
Several complainants were traveling through Texas and never returned.
Two had criminal histories.
One admitted being intoxicated during his stop.
Another changed the amount he claimed was missing.
It was exactly the kind of record a defense attorney could tear apart case by case.
Everett asked whether anyone inside the unit had complained.
Nora hesitated.
“One young officer raised concerns.”
“Who?”
“Caleb Warren.”
Everett remembered nothing about the name.
“What happened?”
“He sent something to his captain.”
“And?”
“We’re not sure.”
That answer interested Everett most.
The investigation had reached the familiar problem.
Everybody suspected a pattern.
Nobody had captured the act.
Everett asked what Nora needed.
She told him.
A controlled encounter.
Known cash.
Known serial numbers.
Independent recording.
Investigators already in position.
No provocation.
No suggestion that officers take anything.
Simply a driver carrying money through a corridor where officers had repeatedly been accused of stealing it.
Everett understood before Nora finished.
“You want me to drive.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You were going to.”
“You’re seventy-three.”
“Correct.”
“You’ve been retired eleven years.”
“Also correct.”
“This is not a movie.”
Everett smiled.
“That’s why you called someone who understands instructions.”
Nora sighed.
June’s reaction was worse.
“You spent thirty-two years promising me you were nearly done.”
“I retired.”
“And now?”
“I’m driving a Buick.”
“With federal investigators hiding behind bushes.”
“They’ll probably have vehicles.”
June stared at him.
“That was not the reassuring part.”
Everett eventually convinced her that the operation would involve surveillance, immediate backup, and no intention of confronting officers beyond what naturally occurred. The task force selected six one-hundred-dollar bills, photographed them, logged every serial number, and placed them inside Everett’s ordinary wallet. A tiny camera was hidden beneath his shirt collar, while a radio sat beneath his jacket where nobody would see it unless he reached for it.
The operation almost failed to happen.
Everett drove the corridor twice without being stopped.
On the third day, four patrol vehicles appeared.
Reddick chose him.
Nobody on the task force celebrated.
They waited.
The SUVs
The first SUV stopped thirty yards behind Reddick’s cruiser.
Nora Caldwell stepped out wearing khaki pants, a dark jacket, and the calm expression Everett remembered from every difficult interview they had ever conducted together. Six investigators spread across the scene without shouting, while another team began photographing vehicle positions before anyone moved anything. Reddick stared at them as though sheer irritation might make the entire scene disappear.
Nora walked toward Everett first.
“You all right?”
“My shoulder’s annoyed.”
“Anything else?”
“Six hundred dollars lighter.”
Nora followed his gaze toward Reddick’s pocket.
Reddick immediately said, “The cash was confiscated.”
Nora looked at him.
“For what?”
He hesitated.
“Pending investigation.”
“Investigation of what?”