"I think the city should be allowed to read its own contracts," Clayton replied. "And I think the people paying taxes deserve to know when a public official gets a private favor."
Peton climbed into his car and left quickly. Clayton went to Sherman, who looked more amused than frightened. "Biggest envelope I've ever refused," Sherman said. "And I didn't even have to count it."
Jaylen stared at him. "Mr. Pope, I don't know how you could say no that easily."
"It wasn't easy," Sherman replied. "Easy would have been opening it. Then I'd have spent the rest of my life wondering whether my answer had a price. Come on, son. We've got a brake job to finish."
Before he went back to work, Sherman handed Clayton a scrap of paper. Seven characters were written in his careful block capitals. They belonged, he said, to the dealer plate on Sutcliffe's white pickup. He had seen that truck in Peton's service bay year after year and had recognized its plate every time it passed the Reed lot.
Clayton verified the plate through the same public registration system. The search identified a dealership vehicle registered to Peton Motors, with an original issuance date in March 2020. It did not independently prove that Sutcliffe had driven it continuously, or without paying, but its long association with the deputy chief raised a question about an undisclosed benefit that ordinary bidding rules were designed to prevent.
"Six years and a half," Sherman said. "That truck's been coming to work with him longer than some officers have been on the force."
"A loan," Clayton replied. "Potentially a very valuable one. We need the terms and who paid for what. The plate tells us where to ask, not what answer we'll get."
He printed the lookup and dated it. The same dealership now appeared in the sedan record, the sign complaint, the bank advisory list, the withdrawn auction consignment, and the registration of the truck driven by the official keeping his police investigation open. The pieces no longer felt like a bad Saturday spreading into unrelated problems. They felt like overlapping paths leading back to the same decision makers.
Sunday passed without another patrol car at the gate. Clayton took Hope to the park and tried to give her a morning that did not contain city contracts, lawyers, or the name Peton. She rode her bicycle around the pond while he watched from a bench and answered occasional messages from Sherman. For twenty minutes, he allowed himself to think only about the way she laughed when she gained enough speed to ride without looking down at the pedals.
Then she stopped beside him and asked why somebody would take a father's keys if they weren't trying to steal them. Clayton considered how much to tell a ten-year-old. He explained that the officer had claimed the keys were evidence and that sometimes people in authority made bad decisions that had to be corrected through a process. He did not tell her that he had seen the officer put the ring in his pocket and close the button.