"Screw you." Bryce spit at him. Kendrick wiped a speck of saliva from his cheek. He didn't flinch. "Get him out of here."
Kendrick said. As Bryce was shoved into the back of a Black federal SUV, a cage much smaller and darker than his own cruiser, he saw them. The media. News vans were pulling up. CNN, Fox News, local affiliates.
The FBI didn't just bring guns, they brought the spotlight. The story of a corrupt small town cop arresting the FBI was too good to pass up. Back inside, the station was being dismantled. Agents were seizing computers. Files were being boxed up.
Chief Garrick was sitting in a chair, head in his hands, as a state trooper read him his rights. Serena walked over to the booking desk and picked up her badge. She clipped it onto her belt. She looked at Kendrick. "You okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine." Kendrick said. He picked up his own badge. "But we're not done. Callahan is just the muscle.
We need Langley. And we need the judge who signs off on these bogus warrants." "Langley is at his office." Serena said checking her phone. "The B team is raiding it right now."
"Good." Kendrick said. He looked at Officer Tara and the rookie Ellis, who were standing in the corner terrified. Kendrick walked over to them. They flinched.
"Relax." Kendrick said. "I know who the bad apples are. You two just stood by. That's not great, but it's not criminal yet."
He handed Tara a business card. "If you want to keep your badges, you're going to tell us everything. Every bribe taken. Every time Garrick looked the other way. You talk, you walk.
You stay silent, you go down with them." Tara took the card. Her hands were shaking. "I'll talk. I'll tell you everything."
"Good choice." Kendrick said. He turned to the door. "Come on, Serena. Let's go get our car back.
I think Officer Callahan left it unlocked." As they walked out of the station into the humid Alabama afternoon, the cameras flashed. Kendrick didn't smile. This wasn't a victory lap. It was just the beginning of the cleanup.
But for Bryce Callahan, watching through the tinted window of the federal transport, his life as he knew it was effectively over. He just didn't know how bad it was going to get inside. The federal courthouse in Birmingham was a stark contrast to the humid, dusty streets of Pine Creek. It was a fortress of marble and glass, air-conditioned to a crisp chill. But for Bryce Callahan, sitting at the defendant's table in an orange jumpsuit that was two sizes too tight, it felt like an oven.
Felt months had passed since the arrest. Months of sitting in a federal detention center, denied bail because he was deemed a flight risk and a danger to the community. The irony wasn't lost on anyone except perhaps Bryce, who still wallowed in a deep pit of victimhood. The courtroom was packed. Every seat in the gallery was taken.