A warm welcome to our many new followers! Our aim is to serve our community with honor and transparency.
—@MaderaCASheriff
@MaderaCASheriffWhole thing was staged with paid actors. Jordan Burke accepted bribes to let Cara escape. Campbell is selling the rights to Netflix and moving to a country with no extradition.#Facts
—@t1ghs_lfh563
Jordan gripped both sides of the podium and looked out at the thirty-odd members of his department who had gathered somberly for morning roll call. Usually, there was chitchat and horseplay before things got started—but usually, they weren’t hunting a fugitive with the eyes of the world on them.
Jordan’s mind was still on the phone call he’d taken a few minutes ago. Steve and Joanne, Bree’s parents, had called to demand justice for their daughter, who was still in a coma. Theirsobs and wails on the microphone—they were on speaker—made it even more difficult for Jordan to communicate that, to the best of his investigators’ understanding, and although he wasn’t ruling anything out, Bree had caused the crash. He had hoped to shield them from that information for as long as possible.
Unbelievably, Bree’s phone had been found by searchers on the banks of China Creek, its screen shattered and its circuits water-damaged. The techs still hadn’t been able to get anything off it.
Our baby girl is lying in the hospital,Steve said desolately.While that woman is still running around free.
Not for long,Jordan promised them.
Snapping back to the present, he cleared his throat and began. “A quick update and then I’ll let Deputy Soto make assignments so you can all start your day. Despite the best efforts of both our department and the combined federal task force now led by the US Marshals, Cara Campbell remains at large. We tracked her to the compound of William Fisk but now both of them are missing. It’s possible they’re together, although we don’t know what motive Fisk would have for assisting Campbell. It’s also possible they died in the fire.”
Jordan saw that the raid on the compound was obviously news to some people in the room. A couple of newer deputies seemed to be masking nerves with over-serious expressions, probably because of their sudden proximity to such a high-profile case. And everyone, from the investigators to the dispatchers, looked as tired as Jordan felt.
Witten, a veteran deputy, raised his hand. “Sheriff, I was off duty last night, but I heard shots were fired at the compound.”
“Someone got excited and squeezed the trigger, but thankfully no one was hurt.”
Jordan couldn’t blame Witten for fishing. And while he couldn’t stop his department from gossiping, he wasn’t aboutto confirm that a fed—a BLM guy after all, it turned out, who didn’t usually carry a weapon—fired on their boss. Not unless he wanted them to rebel outright against Wen’s command.
And one of them was already talking to CNN.
Maybe a pep talk was in order. Jordan uncapped his water bottle, took a swig, then rubbed a stray drop off the lectern’s laminate top with his thumb.
“Look,” he said, screwing the cap back on the bottle. “Yesterday was a rough day. It can be weird working with the Feds, and none of us are used to having the media breathing down our necks. But those are just distractions. We’re all good at our jobs. If we keep our heads down and do the work, the results will come. When we find Cara Campbell, things will get back to normal.”
He hoped.
“Do you have any other questions for me?” he asked, thinking it was best to wrap up quickly.
In the back, Gracia raised her hand. “Sheriff, our X account has a hundred thousand new followers, and we have forty thousand new likes on our Facebook page.”
That brought a few chuckles and ironic cheers. Lopez tried to start a slow clap but gave up when nobody joined in.
“Some of the stuff people are saying about—us—is horrible,” Gracia continued. “They’re sending me direct messages with links I’m afraid to even open. I volunteered to post departmental updates, not fight with trolls.”
Jordan smiled at her. “I’m very sorry you’re being subjected to that. Don’t open links, don’t respond, and please don’t take it personally. Please continue to post official updates as usual—let’s hold off on any silly dances for now—and I’ll see if we can hire a temp who’s trained in crisis management to help us out.”
Thinking that Sydney and her teenage friends would probably do a good job slapping down the assholes. Thenpicturing Bree’s broken phone with a twinge that almost made his eyes water.
In the front row, Beto touched his watch, reminding Jordan he needed time to discuss logistics and make assignments.
“Anybody else?” Jordan asked.
Nobody else. Jordan wondered if he should try to flush out the leaker, but after scanning the stressed and weary expressions in the room, decided on a gentler approach. He nodded at Beto to signal he was wrapping up.
“Our department is in unfamiliar territory and we need to support each other. I know some of you will be contacted by reporters asking for inside information. Don’t talk to them. Your friends will be asking you, too, because they’re curious. And while it’s tempting to share stories, remember even your friends will also want to share what they know. Leaks not only make the department look bad, but they can even get in the way of what we’re trying to do. So save the war stories until after this is all over.”
Jordan wasn’t sure when he would be ready to tell anyone his version of last night’s events. He looked at the men and women under his command and felt a sudden swell of concern for them.
To disguise it, he picked up his water bottle and headed for the door. “Have a good shift,” he told them. “And stay safe out there.”
