Chapter 3 - The Search Warrant
Cole knocked three times.
“Sheriff’s department!”
Rachel panicked.
“What do we do?”
“Nothing illegal.”
“Ethan—”
“Give me the drive.”
She handed it over.
I slipped it into my pocket.
Then I opened the door.
Cole smiled.
“Afternoon, mechanic.”
“You lost?”
He held up the warrant.
“Search authorization.”
“For?”
“Illegal possession of restricted military equipment.”
Rachel stared at him.
“You said—”
Cole’s eyes snapped toward her.
That was enough.
I looked at him.
“You two have discussed this before?”
Rachel went silent.
Cole pushed the warrant toward me.
“You can cooperate or make this difficult.”
I read it.
The warrant named several items.
None existed.
I stepped aside.
“Search.”
Cole frowned.
He expected resistance.
His deputies entered.
They opened cabinets, closets and drawers.
One headed toward my office.
I followed.
Cole blocked me.
“Stay here.”
“It’s my house.”
“It’s my investigation.”
“No,” I said. “It’s your search.”
His smile disappeared.
Twenty minutes later, a deputy called from the garage.
“Sheriff!”
Cole walked outside.
I followed at a distance.
A young deputy held up a black case.
Cole smiled.
“There we go.”
“What is it?” Rachel asked.
The deputy opened it.
Inside were military-style detonators.
Rachel gasped.
Cole turned toward me.
“You’re under arrest.”
I looked at the deputy.
“What’s your name?”
“Deputy Miller.”
“Did you personally find that?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Tool cabinet.”
“Which drawer?”
“Bottom.”
I nodded.
Cole pulled out his handcuffs.
“You have the right to remain silent.”
“Actually,” I said, “I have a question.”
Cole sighed.
“What?”
I pointed toward the ceiling.
“Did you notice the cameras?”
His expression changed.
I had installed security cameras after repeated tool thefts from my garage.
Every workbench.
Every entrance.
Every cabinet.
Recorded continuously.
Cole stared at the small camera above us.
Nobody spoke.
Then another vehicle entered the driveway.
Black SUV.
Federal plates.
Cole turned.
Two men and a woman stepped out.
The woman approached first.
“Commander Hayes?”
“Yes.”
She displayed credentials.
“Special Agent Monica Reed. Department of Defense Inspector General.”
Cole stiffened.
“This is a county investigation.”
Reed looked at the black case.
“Not anymore.”
Cole’s jaw tightened.
“I have a warrant.”
“And we have federal jurisdiction over suspected theft and trafficking of military-controlled materials.”
Cole looked at me.
For the first time, there was no smile.
Agent Reed pointed toward the case.
“Nobody touches that.”
May you like
Then she looked at Cole.
“And nobody leaves.”
