Chapter 37
Sawyer
Tracy arrives fifteen minutes late, which doesn’t surprise me. She’s wearing her usual work clothes and that fake smile she uses when she thinks she’s in control.
I’m already seated in the same corner booth where I met Chris yesterday, the manila folder closed on the table beside my coffee cup. Tracy slides into the seat across from me, looking around the nearly empty diner with obvious distaste. Her perfume is too strong in the small booth.
“Charming place,” she says, settling her purse in her lap.
I ignore the jab. “Though I suppose it suits you.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“Your phone call was rather demanding.” Tracy signals the waitress for coffee. “I hope this won’t take long. I have real work to do.”
“I’m sure the Carlston family keeps you busy.”
Something flickers across her face, but she recovers quickly. “I don't know what Alice has told you about my job—”
“This isn’t about what Alice told me.” I open the folder and slide the first document across the table. “This is about Jennifer Walsh.”
Tracy goes very still. Her eyes drop to the police report, and I watch the color drain from her face. Good. She recognizes it.
For a moment, she doesn't speak. Just stares at Jennifer Walsh's name like seeing a ghost. I wonder if Alice knows how desperate her mother is to keep this job. Desperate enough to cover for Lance every single time.
“I don’t know what this is supposed to prove.”
“Three years ago, Lance Carlston sexually harassed the mayor’s daughter. She filed a complaint, then withdrew it after receiving multiple calls from you.”
“I don’t recall.”
My jaw tightens. “Phone records.” I slide another page across. “Your number, calling Jennifer Walsh four times between the complaint being filed and withdrawn.”
Tracy stares at the phone records, her hands gripping her coffee cup. “I was helping resolve a misunderstanding.”
“By offering her five thousand dollars?”
“I don’t know where you’re getting your sources from—”
“From Jennifer Walsh. She’s willing to go on record about what you offered and what you threatened.”
The fake smile disappears. “You can’t prove anything. Alice really does have you wrapped around her finger.”
“I can prove everything.” I pull out more documents. She's trying to use Alice against me. It won't work. “Sarah Martinez. Rebecca Foster. Six women total who can testify about your calls, your bribes, your threats.”
“Those were business matters—”
“Business matters?” I lean forward, keeping my voice deadly calm. “Tracy, you’ve been covering up Lance’s crimes for years. Witness tampering, conspiracy, accessory after the fact. That’s serious prison time.”
Tracy’s hands start shaking. She sets down her coffee cup. “Lance is a good kid who made some mistakes. I was helping—”
“Help him avoid consequences for stalking and harassing women?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?” I spread more documents across the table. “Because these bank records show the Carlstons paying you five thousand dollars every time you made one of Lance’s victims disappear.”
Tracy stares at the financial records. “You bastard.”
I keep my voice level. “Jennifer Walsh recorded your calls. The other women kept emails. This isn’t going away.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, staring at the evidence. I can see her calculating—weighing her options, looking for an angle. When she speaks, her voice is different—smaller. “What do you want?”
“Withdraw your complaint against me. Today.”
“I can’t.”
I should stop. This isn't working. But I push forward anyway.
“Stop pressuring Alice to drop the charges.”
“The Carlston—”
“I don’t care what that family expects.” My voice is flat. “Stay away from Alice. No visits, no calls, no manipulation. You’re done manipulating her.”
“You can’t tell me to stay away. She’s my daughter.”
“You gave up that right when you chose Lance over her.”
Tracy’s face hardens. “You think you can threaten me and I’ll just comply?”
“I think you’re looking at prison time if you don’t.”
She stands up suddenly, grabbing her purse. “Lance is from a good family. Alice is a troubled woman with a history of dramatic behavior. And you’re a corrupt cop who arrested an innocent man.”
“That’s your story?”
“That’s the truth.” Tracy leans down, her voice dropping. Her hands grip the table edge. “And if you try to use any of this so-called evidence, I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of man you really are. You think the state investigation is bad now? Wait until I’m done with you.”
“Tracy—”
“You should have stayed away from my daughter, Officer Edwards. Now you’re both going to pay for it.”
My hands grip the edge of the table.
She walks out, heels clicking against the diner floor. Through the window, I watch her get into her car and drive away, back straight, chin up. The diner feels quieter without her fury filling the space.
She’s not backing down. If anything, I’ve made her more determined.
I sit in the empty booth, staring at the folder. My hands are still shaking. Not from fear, but from barely controlled anger.
I came here thinking I could force Tracy to back off. Instead, I've cornered a woman who's been covering up crimes for years. And cornered people don't surrender.
They fight back harder.
Chris was right. She's not going down without a fight. Which means I just made things worse for Alice. Tracy's not going to stop.
Time to take this evidence somewhere it can't be ignored. Before Tracy has a chance to make good on her threats.