“What did you find?”
“A second entry. It says that a sealed packet relating to the Samuel Reed investigation was received by the county commissioner's office, then returned to the courthouse archive three days later. There is no record of who returned it.”
Walsh reached for a pen.
“Can you preserve the entry?”
“I already printed a copy.”
“Do not remove anything else or alter the original file. Keep the copy somewhere secure, and don't discuss this with anyone who isn't authorized to know about the investigation. We'll arrange to obtain it properly.”
Miriam's voice grew quieter.
“Agent Walsh, I think someone knows you're looking.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because when I went to the archive this afternoon, a man was waiting outside the records room. He said he had been sent to supervise the transfer. He knew my name, and he knew which files I had been asked to locate.”
“Did he identify himself?”
“He said his name was Daniel Voss.”
Walsh stood so abruptly that her chair rolled backward.
“Did he enter the records room?”
“Yes. He asked for the index to the old sealed files. I told him I needed written authorization before releasing anything. He said the authorization was already in the system.”
“Did you give him the index?”
“No.”
“Good. Stay where you are if it's safe to do so. Do not confront him, and do not attempt to investigate this alone. I'm sending a team to speak with you.”
After ending the call, Walsh immediately contacted Evelyn Brooks.
Within minutes, the prosecutor arrived in the operations room. Walsh explained what Miriam had reported, then showed her the copy of the transfer reference recovered from Michael Reed's metal case.
Evelyn placed the two documents side by side.
The numbers matched.
“This isn't a coincidence,” she said.
“No,” Walsh replied. “Someone is trying to move the same records we're trying to locate.”
“Can we stop the transfer?”
“We're contacting the appropriate authorities now. We need to establish exactly what is being moved and secure the relevant records under proper authority.”
Evelyn studied the authorization.
“Voss knew the federal request was coming, or he anticipated it. Either way, he went to the courthouse before we could reach the archive.”
“Which means he may know what is inside the packet.”
“Or he knows what the packet could prove.”
Evelyn looked at the whiteboard.
For years, the investigation into Samuel Reed's death had rested on a report that described a confrontation, a shooting, and a conclusion accepted by almost everyone who read it. Michael Reed had challenged that conclusion, but the evidence he needed had been moved, altered, or concealed.
Now a sealed packet connected to that same case had resurfaced.
If the packet contained the original transfer receipt, it might establish who had taken possession of Samuel's evidence and who had authorized its removal from the sheriff's department.
If it contained the original correspondence between Northstar Development and county officials, it might reveal why the evidence had disappeared.
And if it contained the identity of the person Michael had been trying to verify, it could finally connect the corruption inside the sheriff's department to the people operating beyond it.
“We need to find Marcus,” Evelyn said.
“He's at the secure location with Thomas Bell,” Walsh replied. “He's safe for now.”
“Then we need to tell him what we've discovered. His father's notes may help us understand the archive references.”
Walsh nodded and picked up her phone.
Across town, Marcus sat at a small table in a secure federal facility, trying to eat a sandwich he had barely touched. Thomas sat nearby, holding a cup of coffee that had gone cold.
The room was clean and quiet. There were no barred windows, no locked maintenance doors, and no footsteps approaching from the other side of an abandoned corridor.
Yet Marcus could not relax.
Every time a door opened somewhere in the building, he looked up.
Thomas noticed.
“You're safe here,” he said.
Marcus looked at him.
“That's what everyone keeps telling me.”
“I know.”
“But my father was supposed to be safe too. He was a deputy. He knew the people he worked with. He believed the system would protect him if he followed the rules.”
Thomas set his cup down.
“Your father believed the rules mattered. He also understood that people could misuse them. That's why he kept copies.”
“He still died.”
Thomas had no answer.
Marcus lowered his eyes to the table.
He was tired of hearing that his father had been brave. Brave people still died. Honest people still lost their jobs. Witnesses still disappeared from investigations. Calling someone brave did not explain why the people who had done wrong had been allowed to continue.
“I keep thinking about the last time I spoke to him,” Marcus said. “We argued about something stupid. I wanted to borrow his car, and he told me I hadn't finished my homework. I said he treated me like a child.”
Thomas listened without interrupting.
“I never apologized. I thought there would be another day.”