For several seconds, neither spoke. Beyond the window, a porch light illuminated a patch of neatly cut grass. Reigns thought about the men and women whose cars had disappeared behind the towing company's fence and how rarely any of them returned to argue. He had interpreted their silence as proof that the method worked.
"So what do we do?" he asked. Voss watched him for a long moment. "We find out what Ellison touched," he said.
"We find out whether he followed every rule when he accessed those files. Outsiders make mistakes. New captains make mistakes. We only need one mistake that looks bigger than his accusation."
Reigns looked toward the dark kitchen doorway. "And if there isn't one?" Voss's expression became unreadable. "Then we make sure the people reviewing his conduct believe there was." He did not explain further, and Reigns did not ask.
The next morning, Marcus arrived at headquarters shortly after six with a locked briefcase containing copies of his administrative correspondence and personal notes. Official evidence remained secured through Kim's team, with duplicates preserved under the retention procedures adopted the previous day. He had slept only four hours, but his mind was clear. The overnight dispatch log showed no unusual emergencies, and the day had begun without any new confrontation.
At seven-thirty, the desk phone rang. A woman named Margaret Patterson asked whether he was truly reopening complaints about Officer Reigns. She was in her late seventies and had heard about Harold Jennings from a neighbor who attended the same church. Her voice sounded both hesitant and determined.
"Three months ago, that officer stopped me for rolling through a stop sign," she said. "I told him I always stop there because there's a school crossing, but he acted like I'd insulted him. Then he said I could make the problem disappear for fifty dollars." Marcus wrote the amount down and asked what happened next.
Patterson explained that fifty dollars was more than she carried between pension deposits. Reigns threatened to impound her car, and a truck arrived before she had finished asking for a supervisor. She eventually paid four hundred dollars in towing and storage charges plus the citation. "I filed a complaint," she said. "Sergeant Voss sent a letter saying there wasn't enough evidence. I kept that letter because I wanted my grandchildren to know I'd tried."
Marcus asked whether she still had the receipt. "I have everything," she replied. "When you live on a fixed income, you keep every bill."
He arranged for an independent investigator to take her statement and told her not to give originals to anyone without receiving a receipt. Mrs. Patterson thanked him, then hesitated. "Captain, if they know I called you, can they make trouble for me again?"
Marcus did not dismiss the fear. "We will document any retaliation complaint immediately," he said. "You can contact the independent review team directly, and we will make sure your information is handled with care. I can't guarantee nobody will ever behave badly. I can guarantee your concern won't be treated as an inconvenience."