Chapter 13 - Face to Face with the King of Harrington
Before Daniel Mercer was transferred to Florence, Colorado, his attorney requested a five-minute meeting with me in the courthouse holding cell.
I accepted.
When I entered the small glass-partitioned visitation room, Mercer was sitting on the metal stool, his hands cuffed to his waist belt. The silver hair was uncombed; the proud, broad shoulders were permanently slumped.
“Why did you want to see me, Mercer?” I asked, remaining standing behind the glass.
Mercer looked up, his voice raspy and hollow. “I just wanted to know one thing, Carter.”
“What’s that?”
“Who were you really? Nolan checked your personnel file before you landed. It said you were just an administrative logistics captain in the Army Reserve. How did you get a tier-one black-ops task force to deploy on my county in fourteen hours?”
I looked at him through the reinforced glass, my expression unchanging.
“You spent twenty-two years running a small county by bullying farmers, bribing local inspectors, and threatening nurses,” I said evenly. “You thought the whole world operated on backroom deals and county-line intimidation.”
I leaned in closer to the microphone.
“You forgot that there are men who spend their lives defending this country against enemies far more dangerous, far better armed, and far smarter than you. When you attacked Emily, you didn't just break a civilian’s bones, Mercer. You attacked the foundation of why men like me put on the uniform.”
Mercer’s lips trembled, but no words came out.
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“Enjoy Colorado, Sheriff,” I said.
I turned around and walked out of the room, closing the steel door behind me forever.
