The vehicle was a dark pickup truck registered to a maintenance contractor named Westbridge Yard Services. Its official work orders were mundane: fence repair, generator servicing, emergency callouts. Its owner was Andrew Mercer, the sheriff's brother.
"There it is again," Nia said, pointing at the dispatch map. "Same truck, same window."
"An association," Simone replied. "Not the whole story."
Nia nodded. "I know. But this association has been billing the county for security consulting on the nights the warehouse was emptied."
The task force spent the next hours collecting records under warrants and preservation orders. At the sheriff's department, state investigators secured dispatch logs and the body-camera system so the relevant data could be preserved outside Mercer's direct control. Not every deputy cooperated readily. Some were angry at the presence of outsiders, and some feared that years of legitimate work would be judged through the actions of their leader. Rios made clear that the inquiry was about documented conduct, not guilt by uniform.
Price arrived voluntarily at the state police office after arranging care for his father and speaking with counsel. He carried an external drive containing the screenshots he had described at the roadside. The investigators documented the drive, made forensic copies, and left the original unchanged. Price then gave a detailed statement about the missing dispatch events, the destroyed memo, and his last meeting with Mercer.
"He told me the department wasn't a democracy," Price said. "He said my job was to protect the county's reputation. I asked him what I should do if the county had actually lost emergency supplies. He said, 'Then you make sure the paperwork says otherwise.'"
"Was anybody else present?" Rios asked.
"His assistant came in halfway through. She might remember. I don't know if she'd admit it."
"We'll ask her."
Price rubbed his thumb against the edge of his chair. "My wife asked me last night if I was going to keep wearing the uniform. She knows something's wrong. I didn't tell her how bad it might be."
Simone studied him across the table. "Your family matters. Tell our witness coordinator about any concerns over retaliation. But don't try to protect them by guessing which facts we want. Just tell us what you know and what you don't."
"I can do that."
At seven that evening, Simone went to the temporary command room set up in a state police training building. The fluorescent lighting made everyone look tired. Whiteboards covered one wall, but most of the important material was on secure screens: bank transfers, warehouse images, inventory spreadsheets, and maps of deliveries that should have ended in public safety facilities but instead crossed state lines to private buyers.
Reed was waiting with a paper cup of tea. "You haven't eaten since breakfast."
"I had half a protein bar in the warehouse."
"That isn't food."
"It's evidence that I tried."
He set a sandwich beside her computer. She thanked him and ate while he summarized the afternoon's financial findings. Blue Meridian had invoiced Westbridge County for technical support it had not provided. Within days of receiving county payments, the company transferred funds to Ridgewell Asset Recovery and to Andrew Mercer's repair-yard business. The sheriff's brother had then paid personal expenses on behalf of Cole Mercer, including a sizable outstanding debt tied to a lakeside property renovation.