CHAPTER FIVE — CAROL’S PRICE
At the police station, Carol demanded three things in rapid succession.
She wanted the charges dropped, the public video deleted, and someone to explain why Marcus had been allowed to conceal his job title from her.
Officer Boone listened and wrote down her requests.
“He wasn’t required to tell you his occupation before refusing to give away gasoline,” she said.
Carol looked at the wall.
“I was under pressure.”
“What kind of pressure?”
“My generator needed fuel.”
“Do you own a generator?”
Carol paused.
“Everybody should have one.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Carol said she wished to speak with her attorney.
The interview ended.
At the fairgrounds, Priya was meanwhile tracing payments through the consumer complaints.
The blue cards had been sold at four price levels.
The most expensive package promised a private driver, a guaranteed forty-gallon delivery, and access to a county response hotline.
No such hotline existed.
Some buyers had received nothing beyond a laminated card.
Others had received printed instructions that told them to wait for a Northline driver before calling public emergency services.
Priya reacted strongly when she saw that instruction.
“They discouraged people from calling for real help,” she said.
“And called it premium service,” Julian answered.
Marcus asked for a count of affected households.
“Forty-seven verified buyers so far,” Priya replied.
“How many at Hawthorne Court?”
“Twenty-one.”
“We need to prioritize reaching them with correct information.”
Priya agreed.
“We’re coordinating with the building’s management and resident representatives.”
Ellis brought over a second report.
The redeemed fuel had been picked up by four different drivers,
but all four transactions were linked to one commercial account.
The account belonged to a seasonal events company owned by a woman named Cynthia Vale.
Marcus recognized the name from a county festival permit issued the previous spring.
Cynthia’s company staged outdoor film nights, fairs, and temporary markets.
Her fuel usage could be substantial, but she was not authorized to receive county emergency supplies.
“Does she work with Roark?” Marcus asked.
“They’re listed as partners on a private fall event,” Ellis replied.
“Where?”
“A former drive-in theater on the east bypass.”
The same bypass contained the storage complex adjacent to the fourth fuel redemption.
Marcus asked Priya to coordinate with the appropriate investigators before anybody visited the site.
He wanted the county’s missing fuel located and accounted for.
He also wanted the investigators to establish whether the transactions had been fraudulent or simply misconfigured.
Meanwhile, Julian returned from the damaged truck with an inventory checklist.
“Everything inside is present,” he reported.
“Nothing appears to have been taken.”
“Good.”
“The passenger glass will be replaced tomorrow.”
Marcus nodded and signed the custody form for the equipment.
Julian remained beside the table.
“There’s another issue.”
“What now?”
“Carol has been telling her lawyer that you deliberately staged the argument to embarrass her.”
Marcus looked up.
“I refused a demand for free gasoline, and she broke a window.”
“I know.”
“Then the video can speak to what it actually shows.”
Julian hesitated.
“Some people are already calling it an abuse of power because the vehicle is county owned.”
Marcus set down the pen.
“It would be abuse of power if I used my position to invent a crime or demand special treatment.”
“You didn’t.”
“I called the police when someone threatened me with a tire iron.”
Julian nodded.
“That’s what I’m telling people.”
Marcus leaned against the table.
“And let’s not make the damage more important than what is happening to those people at Hawthorne Court.”
Julian gave a tired smile.
“You’re still the chief even when you want to be just the guy whose window got smashed.”
Marcus understood the remark, but he was not sure he liked it.
The public had a right to expect discipline from him.
He had a right to expect not to be assaulted in his own driveway.
Neither truth canceled the other.
His phone rang again.
This time it was Denise Walker.
“Chief Hill, somebody has been calling residents and offering to refund their cards,” she said.
“That’s good if it’s legitimate.”
“They want us to bring the cards to the old drive-in tonight.”
Marcus straightened.
“Did they identify themselves?”
“Northline Preparedness.”
“Did they ask you to bring anything else?”
“Cash receipts, identification, and the original application.”
He heard the concern in her voice.
“Don’t travel there because of that call,” Marcus said.
“Priya will contact you through the official county number and explain the verified process.”
Denise paused.
“Frank said it sounded too convenient.”
“Frank asked the right question.”
After the call, Marcus turned to Priya.
“The company is trying to gather the cards tonight.”
She immediately called her investigative supervisor.
An unexpected refund event was not necessarily unlawful, but it might strip consumers of the very records they needed to recover their money.
Marcus stared at the map.
The old drive-in had room for hundreds of cars.
It also had gates and a single access road.
If dozens of frightened residents arrived at once, a badly organized gathering could become dangerous.
He called the county traffic coordinator and requested a welfare-focused review of the event permit.
The coordinator checked the database and swore softly.
“There’s no permit for an event tonight,” she said.
