That seemed to anger Harlan more than anything else that had happened.
Evelyn stopped beside the administrative office and turned back toward him.
“One more question, Sheriff.”
He stared at her.
“Where is Marcus Reed?”
Harlan's silence lasted only a few seconds.
But by then, Evelyn knew that whatever answer he gave would matter.
“He was transferred,” he finally said.
“Transferred where?”
“Another facility.”
“Which facility?”
“I don't have the details.”
Evelyn looked at Daniel.
“Can you verify that?”
The deputy opened the folder and searched the paperwork.
“There is no transfer authorization.”
Helen shook her head.
“There's no transport entry either.”
Evelyn turned back to Harlan.
“Then where is he?”
The sheriff's face hardened again.
“You are not going to interrogate me in my own department.”
“I am asking you a question about a missing seventeen-year-old whose detention records appear to have been altered.”
“You have no proof that anything improper happened.”
“Then you should have no objection to an independent review.”
Harlan said nothing.
Outside, a siren sounded in the distance.
Then another.
Daniel walked toward the front windows and looked through the blinds.
Two dark vehicles had turned into the courthouse parking lot. A third followed them, moving slowly through the rain.
He recognized the federal insignia on the doors.
“Sheriff,” he said quietly, “there are agents outside.”
Harlan did not move.
Evelyn gathered her belongings from the administrative desk.
She had come to Bellhaven to find a missing witness.
Instead, she had discovered a system of questionable arrests, manipulated records, and a sheriff who seemed more frightened of an audit trail than of the possibility that a teenager had disappeared.
The investigation had only begun.
And somewhere beyond the walls of the county jail, Marcus Reed was waiting for someone to discover what had happened to him.
Evelyn looked toward the entrance as the first federal agent stepped inside.
She knew that the next few hours would determine whether Bellhaven's records finally told the truth—or whether someone would attempt to bury the evidence before it could be examined.
What she did not yet know was that Marcus's disappearance was connected to a case far older than his father's death.
A case involving a missing evidence box, an unsolved shooting, and a witness who had vanished twelve years earlier.
The first secret had opened the door to another.
And this time, Evelyn intended to follow the evidence all the way to the end.
The first federal agent through the door was a tall woman with silver threaded through her dark hair and a badge clipped to the belt of her black trousers. She moved with the quiet confidence of someone who had spent years entering rooms where people were determined to conceal the truth.
Behind her came three investigators carrying document cases and portable equipment.
“United States Attorney Brooks?” the woman asked.
Evelyn stepped forward. “Agent Catherine Walsh?”
“That’s right.”
They shook hands.
Walsh glanced toward the cell, then at the sheriff standing rigidly beside the administrative office.
“Are you all right?”
“I am. I would appreciate it if your team secured the detention records, communications logs, and access history for the booking system. Nobody should be allowed to modify anything until the originals have been preserved.”
“We'll take care of it.”
Walsh turned toward Harlan.
“Sheriff, I'm Special Agent Catherine Walsh. We need to speak with you about a federal investigation involving potential obstruction, civil rights violations, and the integrity of county records.”
Harlan lifted his chin.
“On what grounds?”
“I'm not here to debate the investigation with you in the hallway. We'll provide the appropriate documentation and explain the scope of our authority. For now, I need your department to preserve relevant evidence and refrain from destroying, altering, or removing any potentially responsive material.”
“This is my department.”
“And these are official records,” Walsh replied. “Their preservation is not a matter of personal preference.”
The sheriff's nostrils flared.
For years, he had controlled conversations by forcing others to defend themselves. He asked questions rapidly, interrupted answers, and treated hesitation as an admission of weakness. Most people eventually became so concerned with satisfying him that they forgot what they had originally come to say.
Walsh did not give him that opportunity.
She turned to one of her investigators.
“Start with the server room. Photograph the current configuration before touching anything. Get a documented copy of the relevant access logs. Coordinate with the county's IT personnel and preserve the audit trail.”
The investigator nodded and walked away.
Another agent approached Helen Price, introduced herself, and asked whether she possessed any original records or copies that might be relevant.
Helen looked at Evelyn.
Evelyn nodded.
“You should tell her what you told us. Stick to what you personally observed. If you're uncertain about something, say so.”
Helen took a shaky breath.
“I have copies of records that appear to have been altered.”
“Where are they?”
“I left them with someone I trust.”
“Who?”
Helen hesitated.
“His name is Thomas Bell. He used to work in the county IT department.”
Walsh made a note.
“Does he know what the documents contain?”