Emily studied his bruised face.
“You should see a doctor.”
“I will.”
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
“You did the right thing.”
Walter looked down.
“I was scared.”
“Of course you were.”
“I almost opened the trunk.”
“But you didn't.”
Walter looked toward the window.
“I kept thinking about something I used to tell my students.”
“What?”
“That rights are most important when they're inconvenient.”
Emily smiled sadly.
“You really were a teacher until the end.”
Walter laughed.
For the first time in two days, it felt genuine.
Then his phone rang.
It was Mercer.
Walter answered.
“Hello?”
Mercer said:
“We found Samuel.”
Walter froze.
“What?”
“He's alive.”
Walter stood.
“Where?”
“He was taken to a hospital.”
Walter's eyes filled with tears.
“Is he okay?”
“He's injured, but he's conscious.”
Walter sat down again.
“Can I see him?”
“Yes.”
Mercer paused.
“But there is something you should know.”
Walter waited.
“Samuel says he didn't trust the police because someone close to the investigation had been giving information to the people he was investigating.”
Walter closed his eyes.
The roadside stop suddenly made sense.
They hadn't been trying to arrest him.
They had been trying to find the evidence.
And they had almost succeeded.
Three weeks later, Walter sat in a federal interview room.
The dashcam footage played on a monitor.
The recording showed everything.
Officer Brooks approaching the vehicle.
Walter answering questions.
The demand for the phone.
The questions about Samuel.
The attempt to obtain access to the trunk.
Every detail was preserved.
There was no interpretation.
No memory.
No argument.
Just the recording.
The investigators compared it with phone records, patrol logs, radio transmissions, and the files from Samuel's flash drive.
Piece by piece, the story became clearer.