Chapter 7 - The Badge of Compromise: Deputy Vance's Unwelcome Visit
The morning sun finally broke fully through the receding storm clouds, casting blinding, prismatic shafts of brilliant white light across the snow-drifted parking lot of the Copper Kettle.
Inside the diner, the smell of fresh coffee had completely pushed out the lingering odors of cordite, gun oil, and dried blood.
Toby sat happily in booth 3, spooning up a bowl of warm oatmeal Kalida had hurriedly prepared for him while quietly answering his endless stream of curious questions about the strange men in dark coats lingering near the front windows.
“Mommy, who are all these tall uncles in the fancy coats?” Toby asked around a mouthful of oats, pointing a sticky spoon toward Elias, who was standing guard near the register.
“They're just guests whose car broke down in the big snowstorm last night, buddy,” Kalida lied smoothly, offering her son a reassuring smile while gently wiping a stray drop of milk from his chin.
“They're going to help us fix the diner and make sure everything is going to be okay from now on.”
Toby blinked his wide brown eyes, entirely satisfied with the simple explanation, before instantly turning his attention back to his dinosaur coloring book.
Across the room, Gabriel Mercer sat in booth 5, a fresh cup of black coffee resting between his large hands as he reviewed a series of encrypted text messages flashing across his satellite smartphone.
The wound in his side was tightly bandaged and no longer bleeding, though every shift of his torso reminded him of the close brush with death he had suffered the night before.
Suddenly, the sharp crunch of heavy tires breaking through the crust of unplowed snow echoed loudly outside in the parking lot.
Elias stiffened instantly, his hand dropping smoothly toward the concealed Glock beneath his armpit.
“Boss, we got a vehicle turning off the county road,” Elias whispered sharply, his eyes narrowing as he peered through the vertical blinds.
“It's not a Vulov enforcer crew this time.”
Gabriel didn't look up from his phone screen, his voice remaining ice-cold and completely level.
“Identify it before they reach the threshold.”
Elias squinted through the glass pane.
“It's a local cruiser,” Elias reported, a slight edge of irritation in his tone.
“Wyoming State Highway Patrol insignia on the side panel. Single occupant. A county deputy by the looks of the silver badge.”
Gabriel finally lowered his phone, setting it down gently on the Formica table beside his coffee mug.
“Let him park,” Gabriel ordered quietly.
“And nobody touches a weapon unless I give a direct command.”
Kalida felt a cold knot twist in her stomach as she recognized the familiar black-and-white cruiser nosing its way into the snowy lot.
It belonged to Deputy Sheriff Ray Vance—a notoriously corrupt local lawman whose pockets Viktor Vulov and his regional front men had been lining with illicit cash for years.
Deputy Vance cut his cruiser's engine, stepped out into the knee-deep snow with a heavy yellow raincoat thrown over his uniform, and stomped his heavy boots against the threshold of the diner before pushing the front door open.
The door groaned loudly on its newly improvised hinges where the lock had been splintered the night before.
Deputy Vance stepped inside, his hand resting casually on his holstered service pistol, his sharp, cynical eyes scanning the interior of the diner with immediate suspicion.
His gaze swept past the clean linoleum, lingered for a fraction of a second on Elias standing near the counter, and finally landed directly on Kalida, who was standing protectively near booth 3 with Toby.
“Well, well, well,” Deputy Vance drawled loudly, his voice dripping with condescending familiarity as he shook the melting snow off the brim of his campaign hat.
“Route 84 has been closed to all non-essential traffic since midnight due to a Category 4 blizzard, yet here you are, Ms. Ingles, shining up your counter like nothing happened.”
Kalida stepped slightly forward, her heart racing behind her ribs, though her voice remained steady and controlled.
“The snowstorm trapped a few stranded travelers who needed shelter from the freezing weather, Deputy Vance,” Kalida replied coolly, meeting his arrogant gaze head-on.
“Stranded travelers, huh?” Vance scoffed loudly, taking two slow, deliberate steps further into the dining room.
His eyes darted suspiciously toward Gabriel Mercer, who was sitting relaxed and unbothered in booth 5.
“That looks like an awful lot of stranded travelers driving five blacked-out luxury SUVs and wearing thousand-dollar bespoke suits out here in the middle of nowhere, Kalida.”
Elias shifted his weight slightly, his muscles coiling like a spring, ready to neutralize the local nuisance at a single nod from his boss.
Gabriel raised a single hand in a subtle gesture of restraint, keeping his face completely expressionless as he watched the deputy swagger closer.
“And who the hell are you supposed to be, pal?” Deputy Vance demanded rudely, marching right up to booth 5 and looking down at Gabriel with undisguised contempt.
“You look like you walked straight out of a Wall Street boardroom and got lost in a cow pasture.”
Gabriel slowly lifted his dark, piercing eyes and looked up at the corrupt county lawman with a terrifying, absolute stillness that instantly made the hairs on the back of Vance's neck stand up.
“My name is Gabriel Mercer,” the mafia boss replied, his voice a smooth, low rumble that carried an unmistakable aura of lethal power.
“And my vehicle suffered a mechanical failure on the interstate during the height of last night's storm, resulting in an emergency layover at this establishment.”
Deputy Vance sneered, resting his hand firmly on the butt of his service revolver.
“An emergency layover,” Vance repeated mockingly.
“Well, Mr. Mercer, around here we have strict county ordinances about unregistered out-of-state visitors loitering in commercial businesses after hours.”
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a corrupt, extortionist whisper meant only for Gabriel's ears.
“Unless, of course, you and your little corporate friends want to pay a substantial, highly confidential 'convenience fee' to help me look the other way while I file a routine report.”
A slow, cold smile touched the corners of Gabriel's mouth—a smile that held zero warmth and absolute destruction.
“A convenience fee,” Gabriel repeated softly, tilting his head slightly.
“How wonderfully entrepreneurial of you, Deputy.”
Gabriel reached slowly into his jacket pocket, but instead of pulling out a weapon or cash, he retrieved a sleek titanium business card holder and slid a single card across the table toward the lawman.
May you like
“Before you decide to levy any fines or file any reports, Deputy Vance,” Gabriel said quietly, his voice cutting through the ambient sound of the diner like a razor blade.
“I strongly suggest you take that card, walk back out to your cruiser, call the direct extension written on the back, and ask the man who answers whether arresting my associates is genuinely in the best interest of your career.”
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