Evelyn greeted her warmly.
"Look at you!"
Camille laughed.
"Please don't start."
The older woman stepped backward to admire her outfit.
"That jacket is gorgeous."
Camille smiled.
"It's comfortable too."
Evelyn looked toward the sage-green maxi skirt.
"And that little yellow bag?"
"My emergency storage."
"For what?"
Camille grinned.
"Keys, phone, and exactly two pieces of chewing gum."
Evelyn laughed.
They entered the house together.
For nearly two hours, they talked about family, work, and the changes taking place in Hawthorne County.
Evelyn was proud of Camille.
But she also worried about her.
"Some of those deputies have been doing things the same way for a very long time," she said.
Camille nodded.
"I know."
"You're going to face resistance."
"I expect it."
Evelyn studied her.
"Promise me you won't forget to take care of yourself."
Camille smiled softly.
"I'll try."
Neither woman knew that within an hour, Camille would be standing beside her destroyed Bentley, trying to persuade one of her future deputies to verify a registration document.
As lunch ended, Evelyn mentioned an elderly neighbor who had recently complained about an unpleasant encounter with a deputy.
The neighbor, a retired carpenter named Harold Jensen, had been stopped while driving home from a medical appointment.
According to Evelyn, the officer accused him of possessing a vehicle with questionable registration information even though the documents appeared current.
The stop became heated.
Harold eventually received permission to leave, but only after a tow truck arrived and the officer demanded additional paperwork.
Camille listened.
She didn't immediately assume misconduct.
People sometimes misunderstood vehicle-registration issues, and elderly witnesses could remember stressful encounters imperfectly.
But she wanted to know whether Harold had submitted a formal complaint.
Evelyn shook her head.
"He said it wouldn't do any good."
Camille looked toward her.
"Why?"
The older woman sighed.
"He said the deputy told him nobody would believe his version."
Camille remained silent.
For several seconds, she considered the statement.
Then asked Evelyn whether Harold might be willing to speak with the independent review team after the leadership transition.
Evelyn nodded.
"I think so."
Camille made a note.
She didn't intend to launch an investigation based on one secondhand conversation.
But she did intend to make sure residents understood that complaints could be reviewed without retaliation.
That was part of why she'd accepted the appointment.
At three-fifteen, Camille walked outside and prepared to leave.
Evelyn followed her to the front porch.
The afternoon was warm, with soft sunlight filtering through tall pines.
Camille approached her Bentley and pressed the key fob.
The car unlocked with a familiar click.
She opened the driver's door.
Then heard a patrol vehicle approaching.
A dark sheriff's SUV slowed near the entrance to the residential lane.
At first, Camille assumed the deputy was simply driving through.