"I'll need to look into that," Coleman replied. "We stop a lot of cars."
"The driver was Byron Davis."
Coleman set down the sandwich. "You're talking about the Byron Davis who was confirmed to lead the FBI?"
"Yes," the caller said. "And I suggest you preserve everything before you do anything else."
For a moment Coleman stared at the wall beside his desk, where the framed photograph of Hollister receiving an interdiction award hung beneath the state flag. The photograph suddenly looked like an accusation. He called the sergeant and told him to return immediately, to avoid speaking about the stop with other officers, and to preserve every original record. Hollister protested that he was already back and had more work to do. Coleman repeated the order in a voice that made the sergeant stop arguing.
Before the sheriff could hang up, a woman named Rachel Townsend entered the front lobby carrying credentials and a slim folder. She was a federal investigator assigned to coordinate the initial preservation request, accompanied by two colleagues from a joint public-integrity inquiry. Her authority was not theatrical. She showed her identification, identified the relevant legal process, and explained that the agency needed the records secured against deletion or alteration while a formal review was organized with prosecutors and state investigators.
"We need Sergeant Craig Hollister located," Townsend said to the desk deputy. "And we need the appropriate evidence custodian. Nobody should erase, overwrite, or edit recordings from this afternoon."
The deputy looked toward the hallway. Hollister appeared with a cup of coffee in one hand and his ordinary expression of annoyed importance. Then he saw the badges. His smile stayed on his face for one second too long before falling away.
"I'm Hollister," he said. "What is this supposed to be?"
"A review of a traffic stop you conducted this afternoon," Townsend replied. "I'd like to confirm your identity and make certain the recordings are preserved. You may obtain counsel before answering questions about your conduct."
"You people can't come into my county and tell me how to do my job."
Townsend remained still. "We're asking the county to preserve evidence and cooperate with a lawful inquiry. Your department has already been notified through counsel."
Coleman arrived behind Hollister. The sheriff looked at the three investigators, at his sergeant, and at the coffee cup still balanced in Hollister's hand. "Craig," he said, "put that down and stop talking."
Hollister looked at Coleman, searching for the confidence that had always protected him. He did not find it. In the small silence that followed, he began to understand that the afternoon had not ended when he drove away from the man on the gravel. Whatever he had brought back from that roadside stop was now standing in the hallway waiting to be documented.