The sheriff turned sharply. "Shut up, Ryan."
Silence settled across the shoulder. A passing driver slowed to look, and Reed asked another agent to move the group farther from traffic. The argument had drawn attention from two houses across the road, where residents watched behind their porch railings. None could hear every word, but all could see the sheriff glaring at his own deputy while federal agents tried to keep the situation controlled.
Keller's expression changed from fear to disbelief. "You said the warehouse schedules were protected. You said Talbot would handle the receiving records."
Mercer took a step toward him, his shoulders rising. Reed moved between them immediately. "That's enough," he said. "You two will remain separated."
"He's lying," Mercer said.
"Then the documents will matter," Simone replied. "And so will your statements."
Keller looked at her, breathing hard. "He ran it. Not every detail, but the protection. He knew which shipments were going out. He told us which reports wouldn't get questioned."
Mercer opened his mouth to shout again, but Reed cut him off. "Sheriff, you've been warned. Do not approach this deputy."
An agent moved with Keller toward the second federal SUV, where they could speak without Mercer interrupting. The deputy had begun saying things that sounded like an admission of criminal involvement, and the agents treated that moment with caution. He was told he could request counsel. Nothing about his panic relieved the investigators of their duty to handle his statements properly. Keller looked back at Mercer once, then turned away.
Simone watched the separation with mixed emotions. A confession made out of anger was not the same as a complete, trustworthy account. Keller might be trying to shift blame, or he might be describing the scheme accurately; either way, his words needed corroboration. The photograph, the warehouse logs, the payments, and the sheriff's own certifications could speak in ways that a frightened deputy might not. She had spent six months building a case strong enough that no single man could destroy it by changing his story.
That was when Daniel Price stepped forward.
"Agent Carter, there's something you should know."
Mercer turned toward him with a furious expression. "Price, stand down."
Price looked at the sheriff, then at the federal agents. His mouth was dry, and he could feel the heartbeat in his neck, but he spoke anyway. "Three months ago I found discrepancies in warehouse security reports. I brought them to Sheriff Mercer. He told me to change my copy so it matched the official record."
Reed turned fully toward him. "Do you remember the dates?"
"Yes, sir. I wrote them down. I've got the original report numbers at home."
"What happened after you raised it?"
"The records disappeared from the system the next week. I checked again because I thought maybe I was looking in the wrong place." Price stopped for a moment. "I wasn't."
Mercer shook his head. "That's a misunderstanding. That boy doesn't know what he was reviewing."