Hawkins adjusted the rearview mirror until her face filled its center. "All right," he said. "No audience now. Tell me where you got those keys."
"From the office responsible for Willow Creek Residence. The written authorization was in the portfolio you left on the steps."
"You expect me to believe someone handed you the keys to a three-million-dollar mansion?"
"The value of the building isn't relevant to whether I have authorization."
"See, that's your problem. You think you can argue your way out of everything."
Lydia let her gaze settle on the passing trees. She had no intention of provoking him, but neither would she invent a story to make his accusations easier. He had already established that he would reject any explanation that contradicted his assumptions. There was no useful answer to a question asked by someone who had decided what the answer must be.
"You people find all kinds of ways into places you shouldn't be," Hawkins continued. "Cleaning services, fake identification, charity jobs. Somebody leaves a door open, and suddenly things go missing."
Lydia looked at him in the mirror. "Who are 'you people,' Chief?"
"Don't turn this into something racial."
"Then stop making assumptions about me based on my race."
He struck the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. "I've spent twenty-three years cleaning up after people who think laws don't apply to them. I don't need a lecture about race from someone I caught at a locked door."
The patrol car's recording system captured the exchange. Hawkins had become so accustomed to making inflammatory remarks without meaningful consequences that he hardly thought about the cameras. His confidence was not built on the belief that there was no record. It was built on years of records producing no result.
Behind them, Michelle followed at a safe distance. She had not tried to examine a database while steering; she waited until she could pull into a safe parking area near the edge of the neighborhood, then contacted dispatch and used her authorized mobile terminal. Lydia Monroe appeared in the initial search, but the public-facing details were limited, as they often were for people working in sensitive government positions. A federal coordination notice identified her as someone requiring verification through a state contact number, not through an ordinary booking search.
That was enough to make Michelle's concern urgent. It did not prove that every claim Lydia had made was true, but it proved that the chief's theory of an unknown burglar had not been properly tested. She called the number listed for verification. A recorded message asked her to identify herself and remain on the line while her authorization was checked.