The conduct potentially involved impersonation of law enforcement, interstate wire transactions, extortion, fraudulent liens, weapons offenses, and threats against a federal officer.
More importantly, Evan Holt’s phone contained evidence suggesting dozens of homeowners had been targeted.
I met Special Agent Nina Carver at our dining table.
Forty-four.
Short dark hair.
No patience for dramatic storytelling.
I liked her immediately.
She placed a recorder between us.
“I understand you are a deputy marshal.”
“Yes.”
“Today you are Daniel Brooks.”
“Understood.”
“Don't investigate for me.”
“I won't.”
“Don't answer what you think I want.”
“I won't.”
“And do not use federal systems to look up anybody connected to this.”
“My chief already gave me the same speech.”
“Your chief is smart.”
“Painfully.”
She opened a notebook.
“Start before the gun.”
So I did.
The move.
Rebecca’s treatment.
The swing.
Gloria.
The golf cart.
The notice.
Mercer.
Every sentence.
Every movement.
Every position.
When I finished, Carver asked:
“What bothered you first?”
“The badge.”
“Not the gun?”
“The gun was real.”
“Explain.”
“The badge was meant to create compliance through deception.”
She nodded.
“What bothered you second?”
“The body camera.”
“Why?”
“It looked real.”
“It was.”
“You checked?”
She gave me a look.
“I investigate.”
Right.
“Where did the footage go?”
“Cloud server.”
“Owned by?”
“Civic Shield Compliance.”
That interested me.
Carver continued.
“The server has been partially wiped.”
My jaw tightened.
“After arrest?”
“Twenty-seven minutes afterward.”
“Remote?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“Working on that.”
I looked toward the recorder.
“Did Evan preserve the local camera?”
“He caught it before Mercer destroyed it.”
“So video exists.”
Carver smiled slightly.
“More than video exists.”
She reached into a file.
“Mercer’s camera stored twelve hours locally before upload.”
I stared.
“Twelve hours?”
“Yes.”
“And Evan caught it intact.”
My stomach changed.
“What’s on it?”
“Daniel.”
“I know.”
“You are witness.”
“I know.”
She put the file away.
That was worse than any answer.
Evan Holt returned the following morning.
He looked as though he had not slept.
Rebecca was resting.
Lily was upstairs.
I met Evan on the porch.
He stared at the swing.
“Looks nice.”
“Thanks.”
Silence.
Then:
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“All of it.”
“You didn't point the gun.”
“No.”