“You expect me to believe you just wander around writing down badge numbers?”
“I don’t wander.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Observing.”
“For who?”
“Myself.”
“Why?”
The woman looked at him.
“Because memory is useful, but contemporaneous notes are better.”
Something about the answer bothered him.
Perhaps it was the vocabulary.
Perhaps it was the absence of fear.
“What’s your name?”
She almost laughed.
“You finally asked.”
“Name.”
“Evelyn Mercer.”
Boone typed it into a tablet.
Nothing obvious appeared.
Reddick leaned closer.
“Occupation?”
“Public service.”
Boone smirked.
“That means unemployed.”
“No.”
“What kind of public service?”
Evelyn looked at the clock above the door.
12:58 a.m.
“You’ll know soon enough.”
Reddick slammed his palm against the table.
“Stop playing games.”
Evelyn didn’t flinch.
“I have been requesting permission to identify myself since I arrived.”
Boone frowned.
Reddick said nothing.
“My wallet has been sitting on your front desk for most of the evening.”
Boone and Reddick looked at each other.
For the first time, uncertainty entered the room.
Reddick recovered quickly.
“You think some card is going to scare me?”
“No.”
“What, then?”
Evelyn leaned back.
“I think information usually improves decisions.”
Reddick scooped up the notebook.
“Keep her here.”
“For how long?” Boone asked.
“Until I say otherwise.”
Evelyn spoke as they reached the door.
“Sergeant Reddick.”
He turned.
“Six thirty.”
“What?”
“You should make sure you’re still here at six thirty tomorrow morning.”
“Why?”
“Because leaving early would only delay the conversation.”
He stared at her.
“What conversation?”
Evelyn’s expression was calm.
“The one your captain is going to have with you.”
At 5:52 a.m., Captain Samuel Grant arrived nearly an hour before his normal shift.
That alone was unusual.
What made it stranger was the person accompanying him.
Deputy Chief Renee Wallace.
By 6:03, three supervisors had been called into the conference room.
By 6:07, Officer Ortiz had been asked to prepare a written account of the previous evening.
At 6:11, every officer who had interacted with the unknown woman was ordered not to alter, delete or overwrite any recording, log entry, message or body-camera file from the night.
At 6:16, Mark Reddick finally understood that something was wrong.
He approached Captain Grant.
“What’s happening?”
Grant looked exhausted.
“Where is she?”
“Who?”
Grant stared at him.
“The woman brought in from Harbor Street.”
Reddick attempted a shrug.
“Holding Two.”
“You put her in a holding room?”
“Temporary detention.”
Grant closed his eyes.
“Tell me you checked her identification.”
Reddick stopped breathing for a moment.
“Boone was supposed to.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Grant looked past him.
“Where’s her property?”
“Front desk.”
Deputy Chief Wallace walked over.
“Open the wallet.”
Boone, now visibly nervous, retrieved it.
The station had become so quiet that the snap of the leather sounded strangely loud.
He unfolded the wallet.
The first card was a driver’s license.
Evelyn Marie Mercer.
Age fifty-eight.
The second card carried the seal of the state.
Boone’s face changed.
Reddick reached for it.
Boone didn’t hand it over immediately.
“What?”
Reddick grabbed the card himself.
Then read the title.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
Inspector General — Office of Public Integrity.
Reddick looked at Captain Grant.
“She’s an inspector?”
Grant’s voice was barely controlled.
“Not an inspector.”
He pointed at the card.
“The Inspector General.”
Boone turned pale.
Deputy Chief Wallace added quietly,
“And at eight o’clock this morning, she’s scheduled to chair the emergency integrity review of this district.”
Nobody spoke.
Grant looked at Reddick.
“You detained the state Inspector General the night before she was scheduled to review complaints against this station.”
Reddick’s lips parted.
“She never identified herself.”
Ortiz, standing near the doorway, spoke.
“She tried.”
Everyone turned toward her.
Ortiz looked frightened but continued.
“More than once.”
Boone stared at the floor.
Grant looked at him.
“Is that true?”
Boone hesitated.
“She had a wallet.”
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I was busy.”
Grant looked toward Holding Two.
“Get her out.”
At 6:27 a.m., the holding-room door opened.
Evelyn was standing.
She had already heard enough through the hallway to know what had happened.
Captain Grant entered first.
Deputy Chief Wallace followed.
Reddick and Boone remained outside.
“Ms. Mercer,” Grant began.
“Inspector General Mercer is appropriate in an official setting.”
Grant swallowed.