She started to reach for her phone, then hesitated. Voss had told her once that police departments kept records of every call made from a business. She did not know whether that was true. She knew only that after she had contacted the county office about the overnight tankers, Captain Everett Shaw had appeared in person and told her that false reports could cost her job.
"You have a good business here," he'd said, tapping the side of the counter. "It would be a shame for repeated nuisance calls to attract the wrong kind of attention."
He had said it pleasantly. Leah had heard the warning underneath.
Outside, Danielle saw the overhead security camera pivot slightly as though someone inside had adjusted its angle. She wondered who controlled the system. She could not move closer to inspect it, but she could observe. Voss stood between her and pump six again, watching the approach lane as carefully as he watched her.
"What exactly is it about that dispenser that bothers you?" she asked.
"Nothing bothers me."
"You asked whether I intended to open the cabinet before I mentioned a particular pump."
"It's my job to protect businesses."
"Then why wouldn't you want an authorized investigator to resolve the fraudulent charges affecting this one?"
His gaze sharpened. "Fraudulent charges?"
Danielle let the silence stretch. She had not told him how she had identified the discrepancy or which records she possessed. Her question had been specific enough to test whether he recognized the problem, and he had recognized it immediately.
"You don't get to accuse people of fraud," he said. "Not while you're under arrest."
"An investigation exists whether you acknowledge it or not."
"There isn't going to be an investigation of that pump."
He said it with a certainty that surprised even him. Danielle saw the realization cross his face. He looked away and began typing on his department phone. A few seconds later, another cruiser could be heard approaching from the road.
It belonged to a younger officer, Miriam Keene, who had been assigned to the neighboring patrol sector. Keene parked near the air compressor and got out slowly, taking in Danielle's restrained hands, the broken shield on the pavement, and Voss's strained posture. She had been a police officer for seven years. The scene did not resemble any normal credential verification she had seen.
"What's the call?" she asked.
"Federal impersonator. Trying to get into the pump controls."
Keene looked at Danielle. "Ma'am, are you injured?"
"My wrists are uncomfortable. I would like my identity verified before there's any further escalation."
"What agency?"
"Army Criminal Investigation Division. Special Agent Danielle Cross. My credential number can be confirmed through the federal contact your dispatcher is already requesting."
Keene frowned at Voss. "Did you run the identification?"
"Her badge was counterfeit."
"Where is it?"