Insufficient evidence.
Nia began comparing dates.
A pattern appeared.
In several cases, witnesses had changed their statements after being interviewed by internal affairs.
In others, surveillance footage had mysteriously been unavailable.
The deeper she looked, the clearer the truth became.
Rourke was not the disease.
He was a symptom.
But proving that would be difficult.
The FBI could not prosecute a culture.
It needed evidence of specific acts.
Specific decisions.
Specific people.
That evening, Nia returned to the academy.
Her undercover identity was over, but the investigation had only begun.
Several recruits were waiting outside the gym.
The largest of them, Tyler Grant, looked uncomfortable.
Tyler had laughed when Rourke mocked Nia.
He approached slowly.
“I owe you an apology.”
Nia studied him.
“For what?”
“For laughing.”
She nodded.
“Yes, you do.”
Tyler looked embarrassed.
Nia continued.
“You don’t have to be the person doing the harm to help it happen.”
He lowered his head.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Tyler looked back at her.
This time, his answer came quickly.
“I do now.”
Nia said nothing for several seconds.
Then she pointed toward the academy.
“Good. Remember it.”
He nodded.
As Nia walked away, she thought about her father.
A room full of people deciding not to see.
That was how corruption survived.
Not through strength.
Through silence.
But silence was beginning to crack.
The Evidence Behind the Badge
The FBI investigation expanded over the next two months.
Search warrants were executed.
Department computers were reviewed.
Archived disciplinary files were reopened.
The public still knew almost nothing.
But inside Redwood Falls Police Headquarters, the atmosphere had changed.
People lowered their voices.
They stopped using department email for certain conversations.
Some officers suddenly remembered meetings they had forgotten.
Others hired attorneys.
Deputy Chief Warren Pike remained calm.
Too calm.
Nia noticed that immediately.
Most innocent people were angry when falsely accused.
Most guilty people were afraid.
Pike appeared irritated.
As if the FBI investigation were an inconvenience.
That made Nia curious.
One afternoon, she entered his office with a file.
“Deputy Chief.”
“Agent Williams.”
He had learned to pronounce her title carefully.
“Do you have a moment?”
“For the FBI? Of course.”
She closed the door.
Pike watched her.
Nia placed three complaints on his desk.
“These all involve Sergeant Rourke.”
“I remember.”
“Do you?”
Pike’s smile faded.
Nia opened the first file.
A female recruit had accused Rourke of using excessive force during training.
Dismissed.
The second involved racial harassment.
Dismissed.
The third involved an officer claiming Rourke had falsified an injury report.
Dismissed.
“You found no pattern?” Nia asked.
Pike leaned back.
“Agent, people make accusations when they don't like discipline.”
“Three different people?”
“More than three people complain about taxes. Doesn't mean taxes are illegal.”
Nia stared at him.
Then she opened another folder.
“What about these?”
This one contained a series of internal emails.
Pike’s expression changed.
Just slightly.
Enough.
Nia had learned to recognize the moment someone realized the investigators possessed more than they expected.
One email had been sent five years earlier.
Pike had written to a captain about Rourke.
Keep him in training. He knows how to separate the strong from the weak.
Another read:
Some recruits need to understand they’re not suited for the uniform.
Nia tapped the page.
“What did you mean by that?”
Pike remained silent.
She leaned closer.
“Did you mean recruits who could not meet objective standards?”
“Of course.”
“Then why did Sergeant Rourke have a higher failure rate among female and minority recruits?”
Pike’s eyes hardened.
“Statistics can be manipulated.”
“So can investigations.”
That was the first time Pike lost his temper.
He stood.
“You come into my department pretending to be one of us, and now you sit there judging people who put their lives on the line?”
Nia stood too.
“No.”
Her voice remained calm.
“I am judging evidence.”
For a long moment, they stared at each other.