“You had information before my father died. You had information when you took me to that building. You had information when you brought me his notebook.”
Pike lowered his head.
“That's true.”
“Then why should I listen to anything you say now?”
“Because I'm finally willing to tell you what I did.”
The answer surprised Marcus.
He had expected excuses, perhaps another attempt to frighten him into surrendering the notebook. Instead, Pike appeared exhausted, as though he had been carrying the same terrible secret for so long that he no longer had the strength to defend it.
Thomas opened the door a little farther but did not step aside.
“Your weapon stays outside,” he said.
Pike slowly removed his service weapon and placed it on the pavement beside the entrance. He then removed his spare magazine and set it beside the pistol.
Thomas watched him carefully.
“Your phone, too.”
Pike handed it over.
Only then did Thomas allow him inside.
The door was locked immediately behind him.
Marcus remained beside the workbench, the black notebook and blue envelope within reach. Pike glanced at them but did not attempt to approach.
“Sit down,” Thomas ordered.
Pike obeyed.
For several seconds, the only sound was the faint hum of the computer connected to the recorder.
Marcus stood opposite the deputy.
“Start with my father.”
Pike rubbed his hands together.
“Michael Reed was the best investigator in the department. He wasn't the most aggressive officer, and he wasn't the most politically connected. He wasn't interested in promotions or public recognition. But he noticed things other people missed.”
“What things?”
“Missing property. Reports that changed after they were approved. Arrests that appeared in the statistics but had no corresponding case files. He noticed that certain complaints were always dismissed before an independent review could begin.”
Marcus thought of the notebook.
“That sounds like what happened to the booking records.”
“It was the same system,” Pike replied. “Different cases, same methods.”
“Who controlled it?”
“Richard Harlan controlled the department. But he didn't make every decision himself. There were people who helped him, people who benefited from what he was doing, and people who were afraid to challenge him.”
“Were you one of those people?”
Pike looked at Marcus.
“Yes.”
The directness of the answer left no room for misunderstanding.
Marcus felt anger rise, but beneath it was something more complicated. He had wanted Pike to deny everything so that he could reject the man completely. Admitting the truth made the situation harder.
“What did you do?”
Pike took a long breath.
“Twelve years ago, Samuel Reed was killed near the eastern industrial road. The department reported that he had threatened an officer and that the shooting was justified. I was one of the first deputies to arrive at the scene.”
“Was Samuel armed?”
Pike hesitated.
“He had a small pocketknife in his truck. But I never saw him holding it.”
“Did he threaten anyone?”
“Not that I witnessed.”
“Then why did the report say he had?”
“Because the official account was already being prepared before all the evidence had been collected.”
Thomas leaned forward.
“Who prepared it?”
“Harlan was a lieutenant at the time. He supervised the initial response. I was younger, and I believed that following his instructions was the safest way to do my job.”
“That doesn't answer the question,” Marcus said.
Pike looked down.
“Harlan prepared the account that went into the final report. I helped support it.”
Marcus stared at him.
“How?”
“I signed a statement saying I had heard Samuel threaten an officer.”
“Had you?”
“No.”
The word seemed to drain the room of air.
Marcus gripped the edge of the workbench.
“You lied about a dead man.”
“Yes.”
“You helped make him look like a criminal.”
“Yes.”
“And then you stood at my father's funeral and called him one of the good ones.”
Pike flinched.
“I did.”
Marcus stepped away from the workbench, unable to look at him.
For twelve years, Pike had lived with the knowledge that he had helped turn an unexplained death into a justified shooting. He had signed a statement that was not true, accepted the consequences of that decision, and watched the department move on.
Now he was sitting in a repair shop, asking the dead man's nephew to listen to him.
“What happened to the evidence?” Thomas asked.
Pike glanced at the recorder.
“Samuel had been collecting documents relating to a property development project on the eastern side of the county. Several businesses had been pressured to sell their land. Some owners accepted the offers. Others refused.”
“Who was behind the project?” Marcus asked.
“A company called Northstar Development.”
Thomas went still.
Marcus noticed.
“You know that name?”
Thomas removed his glasses.
“I've seen it before.”
“Where?”
“In the records your father brought me.”
Pike continued.
“Northstar wanted to build a commercial complex near the industrial road. The project required several parcels of land, including a property owned by Samuel. He believed the company was using the sheriff's department to pressure people into selling.”
“Was he right?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw the correspondence.”