Crowe said Serena was awaiting processing. Brier pointed out that she had been held for hours on a charge whose elements had not been adequately described. The federal attorney standing beside her asked whether a magistrate had been contacted and whether counsel had been offered as required by the applicable process. Crowe replied that county officers had plenty of cases to handle and that the detention had not been urgent until federal people started telephoning.
"It became urgent when the detention began," Brier said. "Our arrival didn't create that responsibility."
Crowe's cheeks reddened. "You don't know what she said to me."
"Then we'll review the recording and speak with the witnesses."
"She had an attitude."
Brier was silent for a moment. "Sheriff, an attitude is not a criminal offense. What conduct are you alleging?"
He did not answer directly. He returned to the supposedly broken taillight, then to the claim that Serena had interfered with an investigation by asking questions. Brier listened without interrupting and made a note when his description differed from the version of the report that had been sent earlier. The contrast between her patience and his irritation was visible to everyone within earshot.
Harlon Quinn, the county's assistant district attorney, arrived carrying a slim leather briefcase and looking as though he had left a family dinner unfinished. He was a soft-spoken man in his early fifties who believed the criminal justice system depended on ordinary steps being done correctly. Most of his work involved traffic offenses, property disputes, and difficult family cases rather than federal controversy. When he reviewed the available record, his expression changed from professional concentration to alarm.
He asked Crowe whether Serena had been informed of the reason for her arrest. Crowe said she had been. Harlon asked which offense had occurred before the cuffs went on and what facts supported it. Crowe repeated that Serena had been uncooperative and had challenged his authority, then complained that lawyers always made straightforward police work complicated.
"Sheriff," Harlon replied, "if you cannot identify an offense, I cannot recommend that this detention continue."
"You're taking their side now?" Crowe demanded.
"I'm doing my job. My obligation is to the law, not to any side in a disagreement."
A silence settled over the counter. Crowe had treated prosecutors as partners who should defend the department's choices, and Harlon's words rejected that arrangement in front of witnesses. Brier asked that Serena be allowed to confer privately with counsel and that the county address her release without further delay. Harlon agreed to begin the necessary process immediately, while the investigators took steps to preserve the evidence they were entitled to obtain.
In the holding area, Serena heard a door open and saw Elias Quinn appear beside Brier. He had traveled after confirming that the protected witness was safe, and he looked more exhausted than he had sounded on the telephone. He stopped a respectful distance from the bench, relieved to see Serena upright and apparently unharmed. She noticed the tightness around his eyes and understood that the day had been harder for the team than his first report would admit.
"Status?" she asked before he could apologize.
"The protected person is safe," Elias said. "We adjusted. There were complications, but the immediate risk has passed."
Serena let out a breath she had been holding for several hours. "Any injuries?"