"That's what the records we've reviewed show," Maya replied. "We still need to interview the people involved before establishing why."
They assembled the procurement documents on the conference table in a sequence Maya had used in financial investigations for years. Approval. Purchase. Delivery. Transfer.
Installation. Testing. Acceptance. Payment. Each stage was supposed to refer to an event somebody could verify independently. Here, the documents appeared complete until a person tried to match them to physical equipment, network configuration, or identifiable witnesses.
"The documents are neatly organized," Mercer observed.
"They are," Maya said. "Neat paperwork isn't the same as a complete record."
His eyes settled on the acceptance page bearing his signature. He remembered signing it between two meetings. There had been a stack of purchase orders, personnel assignments, and city management forms on his desk. Calvin had visited earlier that week, presenting a polished demonstration of an improved evidence-management dashboard. The chief had been glad the long project was finally ending. Now he could not remember whether he had asked anyone besides Calvin to confirm what the demonstration represented.
A federal interviewer arrived to request Ben Carter's statement. Ben entered a small office with the stiffness of someone attending an appointment that might decide his career. Maya stood near the door while the interviewer explained that he should describe only what he personally saw and did. A recorder was placed on the table, with its start time noted. Ben could see his reflection in the black lens of its status window.
"What did the front desk system display when the visitor presented her credential?" the interviewer asked.
"Federal authority verified. Special access active."
"Did you believe the result?"
Ben hesitated. He could hear Rebecca's voice in his memory, warning recruits that false confidence could endanger the department. But he also remembered reading the green message twice. "Yes," he said. "I believed the credential had passed the required scan."
"When did Lieutenant Sloan see it?"
"Almost immediately."
"What did she order you to do?"
"Close the verification window."
"Did you object?"
"I told her it was verified."
"Then why did you close the window?"
Ben looked at his hands. His father had worked in a factory that closed when Ben was twelve. His mother had taken extra shifts at a pharmacy to keep the family afloat. The job at the police department meant dependable benefits, a steady salary, and the chance to help people rather than simply react to whatever trouble the city handed them. He had been proud when Rebecca told him his first review was promising. That pride had not made him brave when she ordered him to shut the screen.
"Because she was my lieutenant," he said.
"That explains the command structure. What made you follow the instruction when you believed the credential was legitimate?"
"I'm still on probation. She contributes to my evaluation. I was afraid to challenge her in front of the public."
He did not like the sound of the admission. It seemed smaller and less respectable than the man he believed he was. Maya watched him without judgment. The interviewer waited, giving him room to speak again.