Federal plates.
Two agents in plain clothes, a man and a woman, mid-40s, exhausted in the way people get when they've been working a case too long without enough evidence.
The woman's name was Rivera. The man's was Chen.
They walked to where Luther stood.
"Luther Burnham?" Rivera asked.
"That's me."
"I'm told you have something relevant to an open federal investigation."
Luther looked at her, then at Chen, then back.
"Depends on what you're investigating."
"Preston Aldridge, McDowell County Commissioner. Suspected housing assistance fraud and developer bribery. We've been building a case for 8 months. Can't get enough to move."
Luther's expression didn't change.
"How long has your office known about him?"
Rivera's jaw tightened.
"8 months."
"We got a boy off the street in 48 hours."
The silence sat heavy between them.
"We have protocols," Chen said, defensive.
"Yeah," Luther said. "So do we. Ours just move faster."
Rivera's eyes narrowed, but she didn't argue.
"What do you have?" she asked instead.
Luther pulled out his phone, opened a folder, handed it to her.
"County server logs showing wait list modifications. Wire transfer records between Ridge Development Partners and a shell consulting firm registered to Aldridge. Witness testimony from a minor who overheard Aldridge on a phone call confirming the transaction amounts and referencing previous victims. Financial analysis showing a 15-year pattern of displacement timed to developer acquisitions."
Rivera scrolled through the files.
Her expression shifted. Stopped writing.
Leaned forward slightly.
"This fills a gap we haven't been able to close," she said quietly.
"Good," Luther said. "Because there's more."
He gestured to Rimshot, who stepped forward with a laptop.
"47 families displaced since 2009," Rimshot said. "Cross-referenced with developer acquisition dates. Total estimated fraud, $1.2 million over 15 years. We've got names, dates, dollar amounts, and in six cases, direct quotes from families saying they were told the corrections were procedural."
Chen took the laptop, scanned the data.
"Jesus," he said quietly.
"There's a previous victim," Luther continued. "2009. My younger brother, Dwayne Burnham. He had a developmental disability. When our family was displaced, he was placed in county developmental services. The facility closed in 2010. His file was marked closed in 2011. I haven't been able to locate him since. I believe Aldridge was involved in the placement arrangement that made him disappear from the system."
Rivera looked up sharply.
"You have proof?"
"Circumstantial, but the timing matches. And if you pull his case file from 2009, you'll see the same pattern. Administrative action during housing displacement. No follow-up contact. File closed by a staff member who no longer works for the county."
Rivera handed the phone back to Luther.
"We'll need to interview the witness."
"His name is Emmett Holloway, 15 years old. 3 weeks on the street. He's the one Aldridge displaced most recently. He's safe now. Staying with us. You want to talk to him, you do it with his consent and with someone he trusts present."
Rivera studied Luther's face, then nodded.
"Fair."
"One more thing," Luther said. "Whatever happens next, Emmett gets a victim advocate assigned before the first interview. Nobody talks to him without him asking first."
"That's standard procedure."
"Then it shouldn't be a problem to confirm it."
Rivera looked at Chen.
Chen nodded.
"You do right by him," Luther said.
Quiet. Firm.
Rivera met his eyes.
"That's the job."
Luther held her gaze for another moment, then stepped back.
"Preston's on the second floor, corner office. He's expecting you."