"Lieutenant Hollis, I'm ordering this SUV sealed under joint evidence control effective immediately. Your officers will surrender all keys and step away from this investigation." "You can't just..."
"I can and I will." Brooks pulled out her phone again. "I'm calling the U.S. Attorney's Office right now.
They'll explain federal jurisdiction over evidence tampering." Hollis stared at her for several long seconds. Around them, the FBI technicians continued their documentation, their cameras clicking steadily.
Finally, Hollis reached into his pocket and produced a keyring. "This is a mistake," he said, dropping the keys into Brook's outstretched hand. "The only mistake was thinking you could cover this up," Marcus replied.
Hollis turned and walked back toward the gate, his officers following. But as Marcus began moving toward the SUV's rear compartment, another figure appeared outside the fence. Sergeant Travis Mercer stood beyond the chain link, his hands in his pockets, watching the FBI's examination with cold interest.
"Marcus," Brooks said quietly, noticing his attention shift. Mercer stepped closer to the fence, close enough for his voice to carry. "Federal credentials don't make you untouchable," Vance.
The words hit like a physical blow. Marcus felt every muscle in his body tense as he stared back at the officer who had destroyed his vehicle and was now threatening him openly. "Is that a threat, Sergeant?"
Marcus called back. Mercer smiled, a thin, humorless expression. "Just a friendly reminder about how things work around here."
Brooks placed a warning hand on Marcus's arm, but he was already moving toward the fence. "How things work!" Marcus' voice carried across the impound lot.
You mean like illegally detaining federal agents? Like ordering officers to disable body cameras? Like breaking into impounded vehicles?
Mercer's smile faded. You don't know what you're dealing with. I know exactly what I'm dealing with, Marcus replied.
A corrupt cop who's about to lose everything. For a moment, the two men stared at each other through the chain-link fence. Then Mercer turned and walked away, disappearing into the darkness beyond the floodlights.
Brooks pulled Marcus back toward the SUV. "We have work to do." The FBI technicians had finished their exterior documentation.
Marcus approached the rear compartment where he kept his federal case materials, the same compartment Mercer had torn apart yesterday. Brooks handed him a pair of evidence gloves. "Open it," she said.
Marcus unlocked the compartment and lifted the lid. Inside, his emergency equipment remained scattered exactly as Mercer had left it, but the sealed document folder that should have contained federal case materials was gone. He stared at the empty space where sensitive federal documents had been secured less than two days ago.
"They're missing," he said. Brooks leaned over his shoulder, confirming what they both could see. "How many documents?"
Marcus closed his eyes, mentally reviewing his pre-departure inventory. Six sealed case files, all related to an ongoing federal investigation. The weight of the situation crashed down around them.
This wasn't just about police misconduct anymore. Mercer and Hollis had stolen federal evidence, and they both knew it could destroy Marcus' career if he couldn't prove what they'd done. Marcus stared at the empty compartment, the reality of the missing federal documents hitting him like ice water.