“Unit Seven, proceed to the eastern service road. Instructions from Lieutenant Harlan.”
Michael answered after several seconds.
“Copy. Confirming that the instruction is logged.”
“Confirmed.”
The transmission ended.
Marcus stared at the screen.
His father had questioned the order.
He had asked for confirmation.
He had made sure the instruction was recorded.
And someone had later removed that information from the official record.
Thomas opened the second file.
This recording was shorter and appeared to have been made on a different device. There was background noise, followed by the sound of a door closing.
Then Michael Reed spoke.
“If you're hearing this, I wasn't able to finish what I started.”
Marcus stopped breathing.
His father's voice was older than he remembered, tired but unmistakably familiar.
“I have copies of the dispatch records and the original evidence inventory. The official case file has been altered. Samuel's death was not investigated properly, and someone is using the department to protect a private development company.”
There was a pause.
“I don't know how far it goes. I don't know who can be trusted. I know only that the records are being changed, and I have been ordered to stop asking questions.”
Marcus pressed his hand against his mouth.
The recording continued.
“If anything happens to me, don't assume that an official report tells the whole story. Find Thomas Bell. He knows where I left the copies. Find the original dispatch file. And make sure the evidence is examined by someone who has no connection to Bellhaven.”
A faint noise interrupted the recording.
Michael lowered his voice.
“There is one more thing. The person who authorized the transfer of Samuel's evidence was not the only person involved. The transfer was approved outside the sheriff's department. I have seen the signature, but I need to verify the identity before I make an accusation.”
The recording ended abruptly.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Marcus had imagined hearing his father's voice countless times since the funeral. Sometimes he remembered the way Michael called him in from the backyard. Sometimes he remembered his father laughing at an old television show or explaining how to repair a bicycle chain.
He had never imagined hearing him speak from the edge of a danger he had not survived.
Tears blurred the computer screen.
Thomas quietly placed a box of tissues beside him.
Pike stood with his head lowered.
Marcus wiped his face and looked at the deputy.
“You heard this before?”
“No.”
“You knew about the other recording?”
“I knew Michael had made copies. I didn't know what he had recorded.”
“Then why did you say you knew where the evidence was?”
“Because I helped move the original evidence box. I know where it was taken afterward. I also know that Harlan was not the person who authorized the final transfer.”
Marcus looked at Thomas.
“Who was?”
Pike hesitated.
“I'm not certain. But I remember the name on the transfer form.”
He took a slow breath.
“Daniel Voss.”
Thomas's face became pale.
Marcus had never heard the name before.
“Who is Daniel Voss?”
Thomas sat down.
“He was the county's legal adviser when Samuel was killed. He later became a partner in a private law firm that represented Northstar Development.”
Pike nodded.
“That's right.”
“Why didn't you mention him earlier?” Marcus asked.
“Because I wanted to verify that he was still connected to the company before making another accusation.”
Thomas looked at him sharply.
“You could have said that from the beginning.”
“I know.”
“No,” Thomas replied. “You know now. That is different.”
Pike accepted the rebuke.
Marcus turned back toward the recording.
His father had not known the full truth before he died. He had been trying to establish the identity of someone whose signature appeared on a transfer document. That person had connections to the private development company that Samuel Reed had investigated.
The case was larger than a sheriff hiding a mistake.
It involved land, money, missing evidence, and a network of people who might have benefited from Samuel's death.
And Michael had come close enough to the truth that someone had apparently decided he should not continue.
Marcus looked at Pike.
“Will you tell the federal investigators everything?”
“Yes.”
“Even if it means you go to prison?”
Pike's answer came slowly.
“Yes.”
Marcus searched his face for signs of deception.
He found fear.
He found regret.
He found a man who had spent years protecting himself.
But he could not yet determine whether Pike had finally changed or was simply frightened because his own survival was at stake.
“Then you need to tell them the truth about what you did to me,” Marcus said. “Not just the things Harlan ordered. You took me to that depot. You kept me there. You tried to find out what I knew.”
Pike nodded.
“I will.”
“And you need to tell them about the statement you signed after Samuel died.”
“I will.”
Marcus looked down at the notebook.
“Then maybe you can start making things right.”
Pike did not answer.