Chapter 8 - THE SECOND BADGE
The next morning, Sheriff Alan Keene arrived at the hospital.
He was Brock’s supervisor.
He apologized.
Promised transparency.
Assured me the department would cooperate fully.
Harry hated him immediately.
I did not understand why until Keene asked a question.
“Mrs. Holloway, did you make copies of whatever evidence you collected?”
Santos looked at him.
So did I.
I had never told Keene evidence existed.
“I’m sorry?”
He corrected himself quickly.
“I assume someone in your position might document things.”
Harry stood.
“You didn’t ask whether she was okay.”
Keene ignored him.
Santos did not.
She escorted the sheriff outside.
Thirty minutes later, she returned alone.
“Do not speak to Keene again without me.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because the SUV following Trent belongs to his office.”
Harry cursed under his breath.
Santos continued.
“Keene claims another deputy had it.”
“Do you believe him?”
“No.”
The safe-deposit box became urgent.
Harry went with two state investigators.
Inside were the records I had collected.
But there was something I had forgotten.
A sealed envelope.
Months earlier, Lydia had handed it to me after finding it beneath the passenger seat of Trent’s truck.
I had shoved it into the box without opening it because Trent came home unexpectedly.
Santos opened it.
Inside were photocopies of payment ledgers.
Dates.
Amounts.
Initials.
B.T.
A.K.
Brock Timmons.
Alan Keene.
Then another set of initials appeared repeatedly.
H.H.
Harry looked confused.
“Who’s H.H.?”
I knew.
My husband’s company accountant.
Howard Hale.
But Santos noticed something else.
One payment was dated the morning after Rachel Dunn filed her complaint.
Another came after my first domestic disturbance call.
Another after the second.
Every time someone tried to create a record against Trent, money moved.
The system had not failed accidentally.
May you like
Someone had been selling pieces of it.
And my husband had been buying.
