"Effective now," Brooks said. "You are not to contact the detainee, witnesses, or officers involved except through counsel and investigators. All records are to be preserved."
Hawkins stared at her. "You can't throw away my whole career over one misunderstanding."
"We're not making a final disciplinary finding tonight," Brooks replied. "We're ensuring you don't influence this investigation."
"Commissioner, I've served this city for twenty-three years."
"Then you know why the evidence must be protected."
He looked around the booking area for support. No one offered it. Rodriguez had moved to the side so that Lydia had a clear path out. Michelle stood near the door with her notes in hand. Kim was already arranging preservation of the radio logs, arrest documentation, and in-car recordings.
Sullivan approached Lydia without touching her. "Your team has been worried," he said. "James has been keeping the check-in record. We can go when you're ready."
She nodded, then paused. "The keys are still on the porch. Please have someone from our office recover them. And make sure the property remains secure until I can finish the inspection."
Sullivan almost smiled. "Of course that's what you're thinking about."
"It's still my job."
He offered her a bottle of water. She accepted it and drank slowly, surprised to discover that her throat hurt. Her body had begun registering what she had forced herself not to notice during the arrest: the stiffness of her shoulders, the lingering pressure around her wrists, the tightness in her chest whenever someone raised a voice nearby. Training had helped her remain composed, but it had not made her invulnerable.
Natalie Cruz was waiting in the lobby with her camera crew, having been granted access to the public area but not to the secure booking room. She saw the governor emerge with Lydia and began to ask a question. Lydia stopped before the microphone reached her.
"I can confirm that I was conducting authorized work at Willow Creek Residence," she said. "I'm grateful to the people who documented what happened. There will be a proper investigation, and I intend to cooperate with it."
"Do you believe you were arrested because you're Black?" Natalie asked.
Lydia considered the answer. She could have made the most dramatic statement possible, and much of the evidence would eventually support it. But she was not interested in offering a headline that would outrun the investigation.
"I can tell you the chief said I didn't belong on that street," she replied. "He suggested I must have stolen the keys. He questioned whether I could be anything other than a worker with unauthorized access. He refused every opportunity to verify the truth. People can examine those facts."
Natalie lowered her microphone. "Thank you."
Outside, the late afternoon light had softened. Darnell's video had been replayed repeatedly on local television, and a growing crowd filled the sidewalk across from the station. Some applauded when Lydia appeared; others held signs demanding accountability. She was not comfortable with either the cameras or the applause. She had entered Willow Creek that afternoon expecting to find ordinary weaknesses in a building, and now strangers were treating her arrest as a public event.