Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

maintain the element of surprise and apprehend Stimson’s co-conspirators, we needed to move quickly.
    The subsequent search of Stimson’s Ford Explorer had yielded another piece of important evidence. Aside from a passport and over $200,000 in cash, she had kept a journal—a very incriminating journal that detailed her activities and those of her colleagues for the past three years. Among other things, the journal revealed that the group referred to themselves as the Commission. Their activities ranged from the theft of inmates’ personal property to drug trafficking both inside the prison and on the street. They also sold parole release dates and operated a prison protection racket where selected inmates paid for protection to avoid getting hurt. It was a tale of corruption and greed that was about to produce the biggest scandal in the history of the Utah Department of Corrections, a department that up to now had enjoyed a reputation for being squeaky clean.
    Besides Kate and me, John Webb and Harvey Gill from the Sheriff’s Office, Deputy District Attorney Tom Stoddard, Captain Hyrum Locke, and my boss were at the meeting. I had no idea how Sloan heard about the shoot-out, but somebody had called him.
    Looking at me, Locke asked, “Exactly where are the remaining suspects at the present time?”
    “As far as I know, Bill Allred is still at home where he’s been most of the day. Steve Schumway is pulling a swing shift at the prison until eleven. As for Fuller, it’s hard to say. He usually works in his office until around six o’clock, and then goes home. Some nights, he stays late.”
    “Then I suggest we get a team out to the prison immediately, and I believe I should assume command,” said Locke.
    “No, I don’t think so,” Sloan said. “These are my employees, and they’ve sullied the reputation of an entire department.”
    “All the more reason you should stay out of it,” countered Locke.
    “They’re going to go down, all right, and the Utah Department of Corrections is going to take them down. It’s important to the future of this department for the public to see we’re not afraid to clean our own house. It’s also important for the morale of every honest man and woman who works for the department—and that’s ninety-nine percent of them,” said Sloan.
    “But I insist,” Locke started to say when Sloan cut him off.
    “No, Hyrum, you don’t insist. This is my party and you’re not invited. I’m afraid this is one time you’re going to miss out on a photo op.”
    “You can’t do this,” said Locke indignantly.
    “Watch me,” replied Sloan.
    With that, a visibly angry Locke stormed out of the room and slammed the conference door behind him. While everyone else in the room maintained appropriate decorum during the tirade, I was grinning like a man who’d just won the lottery.
    Sloan looked over at me, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Not a word out of you, Mr. Kincaid.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    ***
    We split into two teams. Kate, Stoddard, and I went to Bill Allred’s home. Sloan and the detectives from the Sheriff’s Office headed for the prison. I assigned Burnham and Marcy Everest to assist Sloan.
    I was certain how Sloan intended to play this. Brad Ford would be lurking somewhere at the prison. Once the arrests were made, Ford would assemble the media and deliver a carefully worded press statement announcing the enforcement action taken by the department against four of its own staff. It was vintage Sloan engaged in damage control, doing the best he could to place a positive spin on a nasty department scandal.
    Allred hadn’t left his home all day. When we arrived, Kate covered the back of the house, while Stoddard and I went to the front door. A subdued-looking Allred answered, and with as much bluster as he could manage under the circumstances, demanded to know what we wanted.
    “Cut the bullshit, Bill,” I said. “For starters, you’re under arrest for three counts of conspiracy to commit first degree murder, and before it all shakes out, heaven only knows what else. Would you like me to read you your Miranda warnings?”
    “Save it. I’m well aware of my Miranda rights,” he snapped. The momentary act of bravado had given way to a look of genuine desperation.
    He turned to Stoddard, ignoring Kate and me. “My attorney is Franklin Meadows, and I want to make a deal.”
    “Meadows is one of the best, and trust me, you’re going to need the best,” replied