Then came the audio afterward.
Harlan speaking with Lieutenant Dane.
“He kept mouthing off.”
Dane laughed.
“Some people only understand pressure.”
Marcus paused the video.
Laura watched him.
“That sound like isolated misconduct?”
“No.”
Marcus resumed.
A week later, the complainant withdrew.
Marcus looked at Laura.
“Find out why.”
The answer arrived the next morning.
The complainant was named Thomas Avery.
Fifty-two.
Owned an auto-detailing business.
Marcus called him personally.
Avery answered suspiciously.
“Who?”
“Marcus Carter.”
“Ridgeport Police Chief.”
Silence.
Then:
“The new one?”
“Yes.”
“Man, you people work fast after the internet gets involved.”
Marcus accepted the criticism.
“I’m calling about a complaint you filed three years ago against Sergeant Wade Harlan.”
Long pause.
“I withdrew that.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“I’d like to understand why.”
Avery laughed without humor.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Your lieutenant came to my business.”
“Russell Dane?”
“That’s him.”
“What did he say?”
“That complaints became public records.”
“That officers talk.”
“That if I was planning to keep doing business in Ridgeport, maybe I should ask myself whether the whole thing was worth ruining reputations over.”
Marcus’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“Did he directly threaten your business?”
“No.”
“He was smarter than that.”
“Did you interpret the conversation as pressure?”
“Chief.”
Avery’s voice softened.
“I withdrew the complaint the next morning.”
“What do you think?”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Would you be willing to provide a statement?”
“Will it actually matter?”
Marcus thought about the question.
He refused to promise outcomes he could not guarantee.
“It will be documented.”
Avery laughed again.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I know.”
Marcus took a breath.
“I can promise I will not bury it.”
Silence.
Then:
“Send somebody.”
Captain Russell Dane arrived in Marcus’s temporary office at 10:30.
He closed the door.
“Chief.”
“Captain.”
“You wanted me?”
Marcus gestured toward the chair.
Dane sat.
Fifty-five.
Broad shoulders.
Silver hair.
The comfortable confidence of someone who had occupied the same building long enough to believe parts of it belonged to him.
Marcus placed a copy of Avery’s complaint on the desk.
Dane glanced down.
His expression changed very slightly.
“You remember that?”
“Vaguely.”
“Thomas Avery.”
“Convenience-store disturbance.”
“Complaint against Harlan.”
“Yes.”
“You met with Avery afterward.”
“I speak with complainants all the time.”
“At his business?”
Dane leaned back.
“Where is this going?”
Marcus folded his hands.
“I’m asking questions.”
“And I’m asking why.”
Marcus almost smiled at the symmetry.