"There is a standard verification procedure," she said. "I've used it before."
Maddox turned red. "I am the arresting officer. I control the booking."
"You don't control my telephone," Nash said.
Before he could dial, Maddox swung toward Nyla. "You think you're some kind of lawyer? Tell you what. We can list you as Jane Doe until you want to tell the truth. We can put you in the women's holding cell and let you think about that attitude."
"I have provided my name and verifiable identification," Nyla replied. "You do not gain authority to change my identity by refusing to verify it."
"Maybe you'll talk after a proper search."
Nyla watched his eyes move to Mara. She understood immediately and felt a cold anger settle beneath her ribs.
"We have already been frisked," she said. "We object to any further intrusive search unsupported by law."
Maddox slammed his palm against the counter. "Strip search. Both of them. I think they've hidden narcotics."
A paper cup tipped over near Nash's elbow, spilling coffee across an unfinished form. Nobody moved to clean it.
Mara stood. "No."
Maddox stared at her. "What?"
"I will not conduct a strip search based on what you've told us," she said. "There is no articulated reason for it. You haven't established a lawful basis."
"I'll have your badge."
"Then put that threat in writing."
Walsh looked down. Ellis pressed his lips together. For the first time that afternoon, Maddox faced a person within his own department who had answered an unlawful demand with a word he could not mistake.
From the hallway came a gravelly voice. "That's enough."
Chief Malcolm Reeve entered, coat unbuttoned, a sweat-darkened handkerchief in his hand. His face was broad, his expression practiced. Reeve knew how to enter an argument as though its outcome had always belonged to him.