A couple of days later, Dakota and I are at the Laurel Springs Police Department giving our statements on what happened with the white-tail deer operation. We’re both dressed in street clothes; jeans, t-shirts, regular boots. No uniforms and no badges visible. In case anyone from Freedom Farms is getting moved, meeting with an attorney or being processed for bail, and they see us. We aren’t officers right now. Instead, we’re just two guys who’ve spent the morning reliving every detail of an undercover operation that they lived for a few weeks.
It makes me feel weird, being here without my uniform on, and a gun on my hip.
We’ve been at it for hours. Going over timelines, confirming details, making sure our stories match up perfectly. Not that we have to try hard, everything we’re saying is the truth. But the detectives taking our statements are thorough, asking the same questions three different ways, making sure there are no inconsistencies.
“And when the money exchanged hands, that’s when the arrest team moved in?” Detective Morris from the Feds asks for what feels like the hundredth time.
“That’s correct,” Dakota confirms. “We’d just handed over the cash when we heard the sirens.”
“And you were both arrested as well, to maintain your cover?”
“Yes, sir,” I say. “They zip-tied us and put us in separate vehicles, just like everyone else.”
Morris nods, making notes. “Alright, gentlemen. I think we’ve got everything we need. Thank you for your cooperation.”
We stand, shaking hands with the detectives, and head out of the interrogation room. Director Drake is waiting in the hallway. He has this proud look on his face, one that I’ve always kind of wanted to see from one of my superior officers.
“Good work in there,” he says. “Your statements are solid. The prosecutor’s going to have an easy time with this case. That’s because of what the two of you have done. I wasn’t sure what would happen putting two almost rookies in this operation.” He stops for a second. “But you two did amazing, and I’m thankful that you’re both part of my team.”
“Thank you, sir,” Dakota and I say in unison.
“Take the rest of the day off. You’ve both earned it.” He claps us both on the shoulder before heading back to his office.
Dakota and I make our way through the building, and that’s when we run into Chief Harrison. My grandfather’s in full uniform, Chief’s bars gleaming on his collar. It’s weird for me to see him wearing a full dress uniform. He only does it when he actually has to.
“Levi, Dakota,” he greets us with a nod. “Heard you boys did good work out there.”
“Just doing our jobs, Chief,” Dakota says with a grin.
“Well, you did it well.” Mason falls into step beside us as we head toward the front entrance. “Though I’ll admit, I wasn’t thrilled when I found out my grandson was going undercover. Your grandmother about had my head when she found out yesterday. She’s going to want to have you over for dinner sometime soon.”
I laugh. “Sorry, Grandpa. Wasn’t exactly something I could tell you beforehand.”
“I know, I know.” He pushes open the front door, and we step out onto the steps of the Laurel Springs Police Department.
The December sun is bright, almost blinding after being inside for hours. I squint against it, fishing my sunglasses out of my pocket. Dakota’s doing the same, and my grandfather is saying something about lunch when I hear it.
A voice, calling out across the parking lot.
“Hey Tim! Nice fuckin’ boots!”
My blood turns to ice.
I know that voice. I’d know it anywhere. And I know exactly who would call me by my undercover name. Chills run across my flesh. That saying that you can feel someone walking over your grave? I’ve got that right now.
I turn, and time seems to slow down. It’s like some movie in slow motion.
Cody’s standing in the parking lot, maybe thirty feet away. He must have made bail, probably got his parents to put up the money. And he’s got a gun in his hand, pointed directly at me.
Everything happens at once and in slow motion all at the same time.
I see my grandpa’s hand go to his service weapon. I see Dakota’s eyes go wide with horror. I hear someone scream, many of them actually. People are running, scrambling for cover, but I can’t move. I’m frozen, staring down the barrel of Cody’s gun.
His face is twisted with rage, with hatred dark and terrible that I’ve never seen before. Even behind the mask during the operation, I never saw this level of fury.
“You think you can fuck my wife?” Cody yells, his voice cracking. “Yeah, I saw you motherfucker. Been peeping in those goddamn windows of yours for weeks now. You think I didn’t have a tracker on her car? That I didn’t know she was out there with you the whole time? You think you can take me down and get away with it? You think I don’t know it was you, Harrison?”
“Cody, put the gun down!” Menace, not my grandfather’s voice is loud, authoritative, the voice of a man who’s talked down dozens of armed suspects over his career. “Put it down now!”
