“Yes.”
“Means Internal Affairs?”
“Sometimes.”
Hollis leaned back.
“Everybody hates Internal Affairs.”
Elena smiled.
“Usually people with something to explain.”
The sheriff laughed.
He liked her answer.
That told Elena something.
Men convinced they were untouchable often enjoyed jokes about accountability.
He hired her.
Her first month was boring.
Traffic stops.
Warrants.
Livestock complaints.
Domestic calls.
One drunk man who insisted his neighbor’s rooster was “psychologically attacking” him at sunrise.
Elena wrote reports.
Showed up early.
Did not volunteer opinions.
Did not ask investigative questions too quickly.
Sheriff Hollis barely noticed her.
That was success.
She watched.
Captain Robert Ames ran administration.
Fifty-six.
Quiet.
Always carried peppermint gum.
He controlled scheduling and complaint intake.
Lieutenant Daniel Reeves ran investigations.
Smart.
Cautious.
Avoided the sheriff whenever possible.
Sergeant Mitchell Price ran patrol.
Different from previous stories, but in this story Mason Cole would later work under him.
Price had been with Hollis seventeen years and openly admired him.
Deputy Mason Cole was the youngest member of Elena’s shift.
He laughed too quickly.
Apologized too often.
Knew every unwritten rule.
He became Elena’s most useful accidental source.
Not because he talked.
Because he warned her without knowing he warned her.
During her second week, Elena wrote a speeding citation to the county commissioner’s nephew.
Mason saw the name.
His face changed.
“You already submitted that?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
Mason looked toward the patrol office.
“Maybe ask Sergeant Price.”
“Why?”
He lowered his voice.
“That family’s complicated.”
Elena smiled.
“Speed limit seemed simple.”
Mason did not smile.
Later Sergeant Price told Elena to change the citation to a warning.
“Reason?”
“Sheriff wants discretion.”
“After issuance?”
“You haven’t submitted it.”
“The stop is on camera.”
Price stared.
Then smiled.
“You always this technical?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll loosen up.”
She did not change it.
Nothing happened.
Not immediately.
Three days later, her preferred weekend schedule disappeared.
Coincidence perhaps.
Elena wrote it down.
Week four brought her first direct look at the complaint system.
A farm worker named Luis Mendoza arrived at the station with his wife.
He said a deputy had entered their trailer without permission and threatened him over a property dispute.
Elena was at the desk.
She began the complaint form.
Captain Ames appeared.
“I’ll take that.”
Elena handed it over.
Mendoza looked nervous.
Ames smiled warmly.
“Come with me.”
Twenty minutes later, the couple left.
Elena asked Ames where to log the complaint number.
“No complaint.”
She looked at him.
“They withdrew.”
“Why?”
“Misunderstanding.”
“Did they sign withdrawal?”