Marcus's unit pulled three years of traffic records.
Harlan stopped more motorists than average during late-night shifts.
More importantly, his stops involving cash showed a strange pattern.
Money was reported by motorists.
But evidence records didn't always contain it.
Sometimes there was no seizure.
Sometimes the alleged cash was listed as “released.”
Sometimes paperwork simply disappeared.
And there was something else.
Body-camera recordings repeatedly contained gaps.
Not minutes.
Not seconds.
Large sections.
Enough time for a conversation.
Enough time for an exchange.
Enough time for a threat.
Marcus had spent weeks trying to determine whether the pattern represented corruption or coincidence.
Then someone else filed a complaint.
And that complaint changed everything.
The Woman in the Records
Her name was Elena Brooks.
She was forty-six, a school-bus driver from Meridian.
One rainy evening, Harlan had stopped her for allegedly failing to signal.
Elena had been carrying $1,300 in cash.
She had withdrawn it from her bank account that afternoon to pay a contractor repairing her mother's roof.
According to Elena, Harlan searched the vehicle and found the envelope.
He told her the amount was “suspicious.”
She asked what law she had broken.
Harlan allegedly answered:
“Nothing yet.”
Then he told her that if she wanted to leave with her car, she needed to “cooperate.”
Elena handed him the envelope.
She never got it back.
Unlike earlier complainants, Elena kept everything.
The bank withdrawal receipt.
The contractor's invoice.
A photograph of the envelope.
And, most importantly, a partial recording from her phone.
Marcus listened to it twelve times.
The audio was muffled, but one sentence was clear.
“Don't make this harder than it has to be.”
Marcus took the recording to his supervisor.
Within forty-eight hours, the investigation expanded.
But there was a problem.
Internal investigations couldn't simply accuse a veteran trooper based on suspicious statistics.
They needed proof.
Something undeniable.
Something that could survive court.
They needed Richard Harlan to take money while investigators were listening.
That was when Marcus called Simone.
“You said you wanted to help.”
Simone looked across the kitchen table.
“You're asking me to let a police officer stop me?”
“Yes.”
“And carry cash?”
“Yes.”
“Real cash?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him.
“You've lost your mind.”
Marcus didn't smile.
“We'll photograph every bill. We'll record the serial numbers. The money will be marked. We'll have surveillance on you before you even leave Jackson.”
“What if he doesn't take it?”
“Then we try again.”
“And if he does?”
Marcus looked at her.
“Then we finally know.”
Simone understood the danger immediately.
She also understood something else.
There were people who had already lost money.
People who had been frightened into silence.
People who had been told that nobody would believe them.
She looked at the complaint file.
Javier.
Teresa.
Elena.
Dozens of names.
Dozens of unanswered questions.
“All right,” she said.
Marcus exhaled.
“But you're staying out of sight,” Simone added.
“What?”
“This is my operation.”
Marcus frowned.
“You're not trained for this.”
“No,” she said.
“But I know numbers.”
She tapped the file.
“And apparently, so does he.”
Thirteen Hundred Dollars
The operation took three attempts.
The first failed because Harlan never appeared.
The second failed because he stopped another vehicle but never approached Simone's SUV.
On the third attempt, everything changed.
Investigators supplied Simone with thirteen hundred dollars.
Every bill was photographed.
Every serial number recorded.
A tiny audio device was hidden inside the SUV.