Of course.
“What?”
“Your stop wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Vance frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“Keller wasn’t scheduled in that sector.”
Vance straightened.
“Who moved him?”
“Dispatch.”
“Why?”
“Because your credit union withdrawal was flagged.”
Silence.
Vance looked toward Clara’s kitchen window.
She was moving inside.
“How would county dispatch know about a credit union cash withdrawal?”
“They shouldn’t.”
Vance’s stomach tightened.
Mercer continued.
“We checked the bank event.”
“And?”
“Someone accessed a notification feed used for large-cash fraud monitoring.”
“That’s restricted.”
“Yes.”
“Law enforcement request?”
“No.”
Vance understood.
“Inside contact.”
“Maybe.”
“How did the county get it?”
“Working on it.”
Vance rubbed his forehead.
“So somebody sees cash leave an account, pushes the vehicle information to Keller, Keller makes a pretext stop, cash disappears.”
“That’s the theory.”
Vance laughed without humor.
“A highway toll.”
Mercer said, “Exactly.”
Vance looked at his wrapped hand.
“Need me tomorrow?”
“No.”
“That means yes.”
“It means no.”
“Ellis.”
“Go home.”
Vance smiled.
“You called because you knew I’d figure out the answer.”
Mercer hung up.
At 6:20 the next morning, Vance walked into the temporary task-force office in Salina carrying two coffees.
Mercer looked up.
“I hate you.”
“I brought coffee.”
“I hate you less.”
The operation occupied the second floor of a leased insurance building.
Maps covered one wall.
Vehicle plates.
Dates.
Amounts.
Colored lines linking complaints.
The pattern was already taking shape.
Drivers with cash.
Minor traffic violations.
Remote stretches of highway.
Body cameras malfunctioning at convenient times.
Receipts rarely issued.
Property described as suspected drug proceeds.
But formal seizure paperwork missing.
Vance stared at the map.
A woman approached.
Special Agent Dana Ruiz.
Forty-three.
Financial crimes specialist.
Hair tied tightly behind her head.
She handed him a folder.
“Your sister’s withdrawal.”
Vance opened it.
A transaction notification had left the credit union through a third-party fraud-analysis service.
Normal.
The service automatically generated alerts for certain risk conditions.
Still normal.
But a contractor with access to the regional interface had searched the transaction less than six minutes later.
Not normal.
“Who?”
Ruiz pointed.
“Calvin Rusk.”
Vance frowned.
“Name familiar?”
“No.”
“Former county dispatcher.”
“Former?”
“Left last year.”
“What does he do now?”
Ruiz turned the page.
“Security consultant for Black Creek Financial Cooperative.”
Vance looked up.
“That’s not a bank.”
“No.”
“What is it?”
“Private debt-services company.”
Mercer joined them.
“Guess who owns part of it.”
Vance already disliked the question.