Chapter 28: The Former Superintendent

Jimmy followed Noah out into the wilderness, where they parked their cruisers on a dirt path. Noah handed Jimmy a cigarette, and after they both lit up and took a few drags, Noah finally spoke.

"Jimmy, don't you think today's events were a bit strange?"

"Yeah, I can't wrap my head around it."

"When I first joined the department, Rayner was a supervisor. He had been with the Pulaski County Sheriff's Office for over a decade."

"Six years ago, Rayner was fired due to some incident—though officially, they claimed he resigned. He hadn't been seen since, until today." Noah took a couple more puffs, dropped the cigarette, crushed it under his boot, and pulled out another.

"Rayner had been tied to a certain organized crime family, though none of us knew it until that time six years ago. We had arrested a drug dealer, but while we were transporting him back to the station, the patrol car was ambushed. The dealer was broken out, and one of our officers was killed in the line of duty."

"The department tracked the dealers down, found their hideout, and captured a ringleader. He confessed that there was a mole in the department who had tipped them off about our route, which led to the tragedy. Using the informant as bait, the department identified Rayner as the mole."

"He should have been arrested, but for reasons unknown, he wasn't. Instead, he submitted his resignation, left the force, and never showed his face in Little Rock again."

"No one found out why in all these years?" Jimmy was confused; a mole in the department was the kind of thing a police force would hate above all else.

"No. Actually, we did investigate, but it was shut down very quickly. I don't know where the pressure came from, but it was certain that Rayner was involved with the crime family, and he clearly held significant sway."

"And then what? They just gave up? We lost a colleague."

"Yeah. The investigation was never reopened. Rayner left, and the family of our fallen colleague received a settlement."

Jimmy didn't know what to say. A settlement paid, the mole identified, and yet nothing happened. The level of pressure required to force an entire department to drop such a case was staggering.

"So, why did they come back now?"

"I don't know. But Jimmy, be careful on patrol. I have a bad feeling about this. I'm heading out. See you."

Noah crushed his cigarette, got into his car, and drove off. Jimmy followed suit, pulling onto the road to begin a slow patrol.

The person who surely knew the most about today's events was Chief James. Even though he wasn't the sheriff at the time of the scandal, such a high-level betrayal would have left a permanent mark on the department's leadership. Then there was Chief Sam; his decision to notify the county sheriff and the chief to report to the scene suggested he clearly knew about Rayner. This wasn't just a simple hostage situation; the key was Rayner himself.

Distracted by these thoughts, Jimmy spent the rest of his shift on autopilot. As long as nothing egregious happened, he let things slide. The dispatch center didn't send any urgent calls, and he couldn't be bothered to stir up trouble himself.

When his shift ended, Jimmy returned to the station to rest. His own problems remained unresolved; the IRS hung over him like a mountain, and he had no idea how to make it go away.

After heading home to sleep, Jimmy woke up in the afternoon and made a trip to Walmart for some household supplies. As his life grew more stable, he felt it was time to make his apartment feel like a home—or at least somewhere he could cook and live properly.

Turning a place into a home wasn't something you could finish in one shopping trip, but after tidying up a bit, he headed back to work.

He collected his gear and hit the road again. Reaching his usual crossroads, he resumed his watch. The night was exceptionally boring; whether he was staked out at the intersection or patrolling, he didn't encounter a single target worth stopping. He drifted through the night like a ghost; if not for the black-and-white paint job of his cruiser, someone probably would have called the police on him.

Near midnight, dispatch sent him to the village of Summerfield to resolve a noise complaint.

Jimmy arrived and found the caller, who had dialed 911 to report that his neighbor was doing renovations in the middle of the night, severely disrupting everyone's sleep.

Jimmy left the caller and walked to the neighbor's door. The house was brightly lit, but it was deathly silent. Jimmy knocked. "Pulaski County Sheriff's Office. Open up."

"Just a moment," a man replied from inside. He opened the door, but the screen door remained latched.

"Can I help you, Officer?"

"What's your name?"

"Frank Moses."

"Mr. Moses, someone complained about the noise. I'm just checking in—are you renovating the house?" Jimmy glanced behind the man. The living room was sparse, containing only a sofa and a cabinet against the wall, both looking brand new, as if he had just moved in.

"Yes, I'm remodeling the kitchen and the rooms."

"Do you mind if I take a look?" Jimmy asked.

"Not at all. Please, come in." The man unlatched the screen door. Jimmy stepped inside and, accompanied by the man, inspected the kitchen and an adjacent storage room. The kitchen was littered with wooden frames and paint cans. A section of the wall had been torn out, leaving rubble and wood scraps on the floor; it looked like he was trying to carve out space for built-in cabinets.

Finding nothing suspicious, Jimmy walked back to the door. "Mr. Moses, renovating at night disturbs your neighbors. You don't want them filing complaints against you all the time, right? Try to do the heavy work during the day."

"Of course, I'll keep that in mind. I just moved in and haven't had a chance to introduce myself to the neighbors yet. I'll apologize to them tomorrow."

"Good. That's all, then. Goodbye, Mr. Moses."

Jimmy turned to walk down the steps, then paused and turned back. "Do I know you? You look very familiar."

"I don't think so. I don't recall. I just arrived here."

"Okay. Must be my mistake. Goodbye, Mr. Moses."

Back in his cruiser, Jimmy reported the resolution and pulled away from Summerfield.

As he drove back to the main road, he kept thinking about Frank Moses. He looked remarkably like a movie star—only younger—Bruce Willis.

Jimmy had seen plenty of Bruce Willis movies, though most were a blur. The ones that stuck out were *Die Hard*, *RED*, and *The Expendables*. In those films, however, Willis was much older. The Frank Moses he had just met looked to be in his forties, nowhere near the age of the actor in those roles.

If it really was him, then something terrible was about to happen here. His movies were almost always centered on gunfights and massacres. If that kind of violence were to break out here, the casualties wouldn't just be limited to one or two people.