Chapter 4 - The Fall of Pine Crest
While the IRS stripped Sterling Financial of its assets, I took care of the local enforcers who had enabled Richard’s reign of terror over Pine Crest.
Chief Miller of the Pine Crest Police Department was sitting in his air-conditioned office, eating a donut, when I walked in unannounced. He looked up, his small, piggy eyes narrowing as he recognized me.
"Arthur Vance," Miller spat, leaning back in his creaking leather chair. "I heard you made a scene at the Sterling estate yesterday. Eleanor Sterling called me personally. She wants you locked up for harassment and trespassing."
I didn't say a word. I walked up to his desk, tossed a thick manila envelope onto his blotter, and sat down in the wooden chair opposite him.
"What's this?" Miller growled.
"That's your retirement plan," I said flatly.
Miller sneered, opening the envelope. Inside were dozens of bank statements, surveillance photographs, and transcripts of phone conversations detailing every bribe Chief Miller had accepted from the Sterling family over the past decade. It showed payments made to ignore domestic calls at the Sterling residence, illegal land seizures, and dismissed DUI charges for Richard Sterling.
Miller’s face went from red to pale white. His hand instinctively twitched toward his holstered sidearm.
"I wouldn't touch that weapon, Chief," I said, my voice as calm as a frozen lake. "There are four State Trooper vehicles sitting in your parking lot right now, along with the Internal Affairs Division of the State Police. If you draw that gun, you won't just go to prison for bribery—you'll leave this office in a body bag."
Miller dropped his hands onto the desk, his body shaking. "Arthur... please. I was just doing what the Sterlings told me to do. They run this town! I have a family!"
"So do I," I replied, standing up and towering over his desk. "My daughter was beaten in your jurisdiction, Miller. You knew Richard was abusive. Her mother called your department two years ago when they were just dating, and you threw the report in the trash because Eleanor Sterling paid your mortgage."
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"Arthur, I'm sorry—"
"Save it for the grand jury," I said, turning my back on him as the doors to the station burst open and State Troopers poured into the lobby, handcuffs drawn.
