Camille once asked why he didn't make people pay in advance.
Samuel looked up from an engine.
"Because sometimes knowing a person needs help is more important than knowing what's in their wallet."
She considered that.
Then asked whether people ever took advantage of him.
He laughed.
"Of course."
"Then why do you keep helping?"
He wiped his hands.
"Because I don't want the worst person I've met deciding how I treat everybody else."
Camille remembered those words for decades.
They became especially important when she began investigating people who had abused positions of trust.
At twenty-three, Camille entered law enforcement after completing a degree in criminal justice and additional coursework in accounting and investigative procedures.
Her first assignment involved financial crimes.
She learned to examine records, trace transactions, interview witnesses, and distinguish between honest mistakes and deliberate deception.
The work required patience.
A convincing explanation wasn't always accurate.
A nervous witness wasn't automatically dishonest.
And a document that appeared official could still contain serious inconsistencies.
Camille developed a habit of looking for independent confirmation.
She didn't accept claims merely because the speaker sounded confident.
She also didn't reject information simply because it came from someone she didn't like.
Her supervisors noticed.
By thirty, she had become an investigator trusted with complicated cases involving public funds, procurement concerns, and employee misconduct.
Some investigations involved ordinary administrative failures.
Others revealed serious wrongdoing.
Camille took no pleasure in exposing people's mistakes.
But she believed public authority created an obligation to be accountable.
And she understood that an agency's reputation could be damaged more by hiding misconduct than by acknowledging and correcting it.
When the Hawthorne County position became available, colleagues encouraged her to apply.
At first, she hesitated.
The sheriff's office had a troubled reputation.
The transition would be politically difficult.
And accepting the appointment meant returning to a community where she still knew many residents personally.
Then her mother reminded her of something.
"If good people only accept jobs that are already easy, who's supposed to fix the difficult ones?"
Camille thought about that for several days.
Then submitted her application.
On the afternoon of the confrontation, Camille had been visiting a longtime family friend who lived near the edge of a wooded residential development.
The woman, seventy-one-year-old Evelyn Shaw, had known Camille since childhood.
Evelyn once worked alongside Denise Hayes at the local school and had remained close to the family after retiring.
When she learned Camille had been selected as sheriff, she insisted they have lunch before the formal transition.
Camille arrived shortly after one o'clock.
She parked her glossy black Bentley Continental GT beside Evelyn's driveway, careful not to block the mailbox or neighboring access.
The vehicle's polished chrome reflected the tall pine trees surrounding the house.