Sunil turned toward the cigarette racks and began aligning packets that were already straight. Audrey saw the movement for what it was: a man trying to make his face invisible while his thoughts caught up with his fear. She did not insist he look at her.
"My daughter starts college next year," he said. "I have a license on that wall. The inspectors can come whenever they like."
"I'm not asking you to accuse anyone," Audrey replied. "I was stopped just up the road at eleven-forty. An officer said he found a cold beer bottle under my seat. It had been in the sun for hours. I want to establish whether a bottle like it was sold nearby that morning. A register entry can answer only what the register knows."
Sunil looked out through the front glass. "Why should I believe your version?"
"You don't have to. That's the point. Check a record that doesn't need to believe either of us."
He considered this while a truck driver paid for diesel and left. Audrey moved aside to let the transaction finish. Sunil returned to her, holding the black coffee she had ordered, and asked the time once more.
"Between eleven and eleven-thirty."
"I might be able to find a sale. But if I find nothing, you leave this alone and don't come back."
"If you find nothing, I'll thank you for checking and leave."
He typed into the register's search window. Transactions moved down the screen: gasoline, coffee, a bag of ice, another sale of gasoline. Then Sunil stopped and leaned closer. The record showed October second, 11:12 a.m., one domestic beer sold cold for three dollars and twenty-nine cents. It had been paid for by a purchasing card ending in 4471.
"The account name is Bramwell County Sheriff's Office," he said. "That's what it says here."
Audrey looked at the small line of text. It proved a county card had been used to buy a beer at that time; it did not identify the hand that presented the card or establish where the bottle went afterward. She asked for an ordinary duplicate receipt, paying the store's standard copying charge rather than requesting any special treatment. Sunil printed it and set it on the counter, keeping two fingers over one edge until he had finished speaking.
"You understand what taking this means to me? My store name is on it. If it gets passed around, people will know where you got it."
"I understand enough to know that you have more to lose here than the cost of a coffee. You decide whether I take it."
Sunil removed his fingers. Audrey slipped the receipt into a clean envelope, marked the date and circumstances of receipt, and put it in her handbag. She did not ask for the register password or access to the employee's computer. The distinction between requesting a record and making somebody surrender one mattered more now than it ever had before.