"Chief Whitlock has the entire town in his pocket," Hartwell warned, handing Talia a thick manila envelope. "The local judges, the mayor, half the city council. That's why we went to a federal judge. This warrant is sealed, airtight, and unassailable."
Talia took the envelope, feeling the weight of the federal seal embossed on the paper. "They aren't going to make this easy, Evelyn."
"I know," Hartwell replied. "That's why I'm sending you."
The Briar Ridge Police Station smelled of stale coffee, old sweat, and unchecked arrogance. When US Marshal Talia Vance pushed through the heavy glass double doors, the ambient chatter of the precinct barely dipped. She was dressed in a sharp dark suit, her federal badge clipped to her belt, radiating an authority that immediately put the room on edge.
Upstairs, overlooking the bullpen from a glass-walled office, stood Chief Nolan Whitlock. He watched the newcomer like a hawk watching a field mouse, his arms crossed over his chest.
Talia walked straight to the main booking desk, where Sergeant Miles Calder was holding court. Calder was a large, abrasive man who treated the precinct like his own personal kingdom. He didn't look up from his sports magazine when Talia stopped at the counter.
"Can I help you, sweetheart?" Calder mumbled, chewing on a toothpick.