"Hagen kept asking about my phone," Jaylen said. "Not about the ticket. He wanted to know what I filmed on Saturday, whether I took pictures, whether I showed anybody the video. He asked the same question three different ways."
Clayton looked toward him. "Did he say why he wanted to know?"
"No. He just acted like it was his business. I told him I film cars for the shop. That's all. He didn't like that."
Jaylen rubbed his wrists and swallowed. "I thought if I kept telling him the truth, he'd eventually leave me alone."
"That's how it should work," Clayton said. "You weren't wrong to expect it. But don't delete anything, and don't try to handle him by yourself. Rosa is going to help us make sure the court keeps those records."
At Jaylen's apartment, Clayton watched him climb the stairs and wait for his mother to open the door. The young man looked suddenly younger than he did beneath a car with a wrench in his hand. Clayton stayed until the door closed, then drove home thinking about how the incident had reached beyond him into the lives of people who depended on the shop.
Friday at 7:40, three city tow trucks came through Reed Auto Shop's gate with amber lights flashing. Behind them rolled Sutcliffe's white pickup. Clayton was outside checking a customer's tire when the deputy chief walked toward him holding a seizure authorization referring to vehicles connected with an active theft investigation.
"Those twelve police units are being moved to secured city storage," Sutcliffe announced. "Until the investigation is complete."
"They haven't been accepted or paid for," Clayton replied. "They're my company's inventory. You have the contract. The city signed the test schedule. What evidence do you believe these cars contain?"
"That will be explained through the process," Sutcliffe said. He directed the tow truck drivers toward the first cruiser before Clayton had finished speaking. "Don't interfere with them."
Clayton asked to photograph the authorization and called Rosa. She explained that challenging the seizure would require a court filing and that physically obstructing the tow operation could put Clayton or his employees in immediate danger. He instructed everyone to remain clear and record serial numbers, towing equipment, departure times, and visible condition.
Sherman stood by the gate with his installation book on his forearm. He called the unit numbers aloud as they passed, writing each vehicle identification number beneath its testing line. The first car left with a chain fixed beneath the front axle. The second followed. Four separate loads were needed to remove the entire fleet, and the process took most of the morning.
One of the younger mechanics watched unit four roll away. He had routed the wiring twice because a bracket had been too close to a sharp edge. "I built that light bar," he said. "Took two days to get it right. They're hauling it away like we stole it."
"Write down how it left," Clayton told him. "You built it right. That doesn't change because somebody put a tow hook on it." The mechanic obeyed, but tears stood in his eyes as he read the serial number into Sherman's book.