“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s secured.”
“Combination?”
“I don’t have it.”
Boone stepped close.
“You know what happens now?”
Marcus said nothing.
Boone lowered his voice.
“We can make this easy.”
“Open the box.”
“I can’t.”
“Then tell me how.”
“I don’t know.”
Boone looked at Pierce.
“Go get the pry bar.”
Marcus turned enough to look directly at Boone.
“You do not have permission to force that box open.”
Boone smiled.
“Permission?”
Marcus’s voice became steadier.
“You should wait for a warrant.”
That gave Boone another chance.
Marcus wanted him to take it.
A small part of him still did.
Boone did not.
Pierce returned with a tool from the cruiser.
Marcus said:
“Deputy Boone.”
Boone looked back.
“For your own sake.”
“Stop.”
Something in Marcus’s voice registered.
Boone hesitated.
Pierce noticed.
“What?”
Boone studied Marcus.
For three seconds the entire operation seemed to balance on uncertainty.
Then Boone’s greed overcame caution.
He laughed.
“You hear that, Colton?”
“Now he’s worried about me.”
Pierce grinned.
Boone climbed into the cab again.
The lockbox had been designed to withstand ordinary tampering but not to create unnecessary physical danger.
The deputies worked at it for several minutes.
Marcus did not watch every motion.
He watched Pierce.
The rookie’s excitement increased.
His eyes kept returning toward the cab.
“What do you think is in there?”
Marcus asked.
Pierce smiled.
“Enough.”
“For what?”
“For you to disappear.”
The words were quiet.
Marcus looked at him.
Pierce realized he had said too much.
He corrected:
“I mean disappear into the system.”
Marcus almost nodded.
Instead:
“You’ve done this before.”
Pierce’s face hardened.
“Shut up.”
From inside the sleeper came a metallic crack.
Boone laughed.
“Got it.”
Pierce stepped closer.
“How much?”
No answer.
“Travis?”
Silence.
Marcus knew what Boone was seeing.
Inside the lockbox sat documented government cash in sealed evidence packaging.
Not a fortune.
Twenty thousand dollars.
Enough to test the pattern.
Beside it was an FBI credentials case belonging to Marcus.
And beneath that, placed there deliberately but lawfully, was a copy of a sealed search-warrant cover sheet already authorized for certain Ridgefield records based on evidence gathered before tonight.
The names Travis Boone and Colton Pierce appeared in the affidavit’s target section.
It was not an indictment.
No grand jury had yet charged them.
No prosecutor had prejudged tonight’s events.
But it was enough.
Enough for Boone to understand that the man he had handcuffed beside a diesel pump was not who he appeared to be.
Boone backed slowly out of the cab.
His face had lost color.
Pierce frowned.
“What?”
Boone held the credentials case.
The FBI seal reflected canopy light.
He looked at Marcus.
Then at the card.
Then back.
Marcus stopped pretending to be frightened.
His posture changed.
Subtle.
But complete.
Pierce asked:
“What is that?”
Boone whispered: