Chapter 26 - Dawn at the Precinct
The morning sun broke over the jagged Marlowe County coastline, painting the gray Atlantic waters in streaks of brilliant gold and bruised purple. We were sitting in the brightly lit precinct interrogation room—not as suspects, but as star witnesses. The room was bustling with activity; federal investigators, state prosecutors, and internal affairs officers moved back and forth through the open door, carrying armloads of seized files, hard drives, and confiscated ledgers. Through the glass partition of the adjoining conference room, I could see Gerald Cole. Gone was his arrogant, untouchable smirk; he sat slumped in a steel chair, his expensive suit wrinkled, handcuffs biting into his wrists as two federal prosecutors methodically laid out a mountain of digital evidence before him. Further down the hall, Vivian had just been brought in by two female troopers, her designer riding boots clicking sharply against the linoleum—a pathetic, hollow sound in a building where her family's name had once been absolute law. Agent Vance walked into our room, dropping a thick manila folder onto the stainless-steel table along with two steaming cups of coffee. "It’s over, ladies," Vance said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "The county commission has already voted to strip Cole of his administrative powers. An interim emergency director has been appointed, and your technical licenses have been fully reinstated with a formal state apology."
