Captain Sloan stood.

“I want surveillance.”

Adrian looked at her.

“On an officer?”

“Discreetly.”

“For how long?”

“As long as it takes.”

That was how Adrian Cole began following Grant Mercer.

For seven months, Mercer remained frustratingly careful.

When he knew supervisors were nearby, his behavior changed.

He smiled more.

Explained stops.

Activated his camera.

Even called people “sir.”

Adrian began to suspect Mercer could sense scrutiny.

Then three weeks before the incident with Malik, something happened.

A seventeen-year-old named Darius Bell was stopped by Mercer outside a convenience store.

Mercer claimed Darius resembled someone seen checking car doors.

Darius was searched.

Nothing illegal was found.

He was released.

Two hours later, Darius’s mother called the precinct.

Her son’s paycheck was missing.

Four hundred and sixty dollars.

Darius swore the cash had been in an envelope in his pocket when Mercer searched him.

Mercer denied seeing it.

No video existed.

Camera malfunction.

Again.

Adrian interviewed Darius personally.

The teenager sat beside his mother, staring at the floor.

“You think I’m lying.”

Adrian shook his head.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Everybody does.”

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

Darius described Mercer pushing him against a patrol car.

Searching both pockets.

Opening the envelope.

Counting the money.

Then telling him he was free to leave.

Darius said he was too frightened to ask for it back until he reached home.

His mother looked at Adrian.

“That money was for his community college deposit.”

Adrian wrote everything down.

“Did anybody see the search?”

“No.”

“Any cameras?”

They checked.

A store camera pointed toward the sidewalk.

The patrol car blocked most of the view.

But one detail was visible.

Mercer leaned toward Darius’s pocket.

Then moved his right hand toward his own uniform.

Not proof.

But something.

Adrian added it to the growing file.

Afterward, Captain Sloan asked the same question.

“Enough?”

Adrian shook his head.

“Not yet.”

Three weeks later, Malik Carter walked out of Benson Pharmacy.

And Officer Grant Mercer saw him.

Malik had no idea anyone was watching.

He had spent most of Wednesday at Bellhaven Community College preparing for an accounting exam.

His mother had texted him at 3:42.

Can you pick up Grandma’s prescription?

Malik replied with a thumbs-up.

Benson Pharmacy sat twelve minutes from campus.

He bought a bottle of water, collected the prescription, and called his grandmother while walking toward the bus stop.

“Got it.”

“You checked the name?”

“Yes, Grandma.”

“And the instructions?”

“They’re on the bag.”

“Read them.”

“I’m standing outside.”

“Then stand there and read.”

Malik laughed.

“You don’t trust anybody.”

“I trust you. I don’t trust pharmacies.”

He was still smiling when a police cruiser stopped beside the curb.

Mercer stepped out.

Malik barely noticed.