For a moment, Marcus felt the old temptation to confront them, to demand they explain what he suspected they had done. He resisted it. The same principles he had asked the department to follow now applied to him, too. An accusation had been made, and the answer had to come from verifiable records, not from the loudest person in the hallway.
He sat on a visitor's chair outside the administrative office while transportation arrangements were made. The chair was narrow and uncomfortable, its blue vinyl cracked near one arm. Officers passed with the guarded expressions people wear when they do not know whether saying hello will be interpreted as taking sides. Marcus kept his hands folded in his lap and watched the ordinary business of the department continue around him.
Reigns approached slowly, as though he had been waiting for an audience. "Feeling different out here without your office, Captain?" he asked. "Funny how fast things change when somebody starts looking into the man doing all the accusing." He stopped a few feet away, taking care to let others hear him.
Marcus did not answer. Reigns leaned closer. "Yesterday you were giving speeches about professionalism. Today you're under investigation for falsifying records. Maybe Westbridge was better off before you arrived."
A few officers looked away. Jennifer Torres stood near the duty desk, her face tight with discomfort. Marcus noticed her but kept his eyes on Reigns. "The records will be examined independently," he said. "If I did anything wrong, the evidence should show it. If I didn't, it should show that too."
"You still think evidence is going to save you?" Reigns asked. He lowered his voice enough that only those nearby could hear. "You don't know this department. We know these systems, we know the procedures, and we know how to protect our own. All you had to do was pay the five hundred dollars, and you could've had your easy first day."
Marcus turned his head slightly. "You're saying you did demand the money?" Reigns realized the slip before the sentence had fully settled. His face tightened, and he took a step back. "I'm saying you made trouble where there didn't need to be any," he replied. "Don't twist my words."
Marcus did not reach for a phone or attempt to provoke more. There were witnesses in the hallway, and Reigns's words could be documented later if necessary. What mattered more at that moment was the sergeant entering Morrison's office carrying a thick printout. Voss moved with the assurance of a man delivering the final document needed to finish an unpleasant administrative matter.
"Your friend Voss has the full report," Reigns said. "Once they see it, they'll know how you tried to alter those old complaints to make us look guilty." Marcus watched Voss spread the pages across Morrison's desk through the glass partition. It was a familiar performance, the official document offered as though the existence of paper proved the truth of its contents.