Instead, he was escorted from his own department in broad daylight, heavy steel handcuffs secured around his wrists and four federal marshals surrounding him. As he was led down the courthouse steps—the same steps Caleb had mopped for seventeen years—a crowd of local citizens gathered behind the barricades, cheering as the corrupt lawman was pushed into the back of a black SUV.
Vance desperately looked through the tinted window as the vehicle drove away.
Near the corner of the block, leaning against a park bench, stood Caleb Vance. He wore his faded denim jacket, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. His face showed no emotion.
Vance held his gaze for three seconds before the SUV turned the corner, carrying the former sheriff to a maximum-security federal holding facility where he would spend the rest of his life awaiting trial.
Two weeks later, bright morning sunlight streamed through the window of Room 412 at Mercy General Hospital.
