The reply was precise, professional, and brief. Agents were positioned. Warrants had been signed. The extraction team was close.
Dominic ended the call and looked at the officers in the booking area.
"Nobody leaves with department records," he said. "Nobody deletes video. Nobody contacts outside parties about the pending warrants. The next decisions you make will matter."
Reeve tried to respond, but Dominic's attention had shifted to the hallway. Somewhere outside, an engine started, followed by another.
Nash used the radio to tell dispatch that the federal credentials had been confirmed. Rosa Chen answered in a voice he had never heard her use: clear, clipped, and entirely free of the gentle humor with which she usually handled anxious callers.
"Confirmation logged," she said. "Be advised, multiple federal units are approaching the station. Operations command has requested that our channels remain open."
Maddox sat in a chair beside the filing cabinet. He had not been ordered to sit. His legs had simply lost the willingness to hold him. Every few seconds he looked at the door, then at the Taser on the counter, then away.
Nyla had recovered her notebook from her purse. She recorded the time, the sequence of orders, the names of the officers present, and descriptions of the contact that had left marks on her arm. Her handwriting was small and quick. She worked because details are fragile, especially after adrenaline begins to fade and memory starts reshaping events into a story the mind can tolerate.
"You writing my sentence?" Maddox asked.
Nyla looked at him. "I'm recording facts. A court will decide the rest."
"You can't prove what I said out on that road."
"Our vehicle recorded some of it. Your cameras recorded more. Several officers heard what you said here. You should stop trying to calculate which of your actions are invisible."
Mara stepped forward. "I'll make a statement," she said. "About the strip-search order and the Taser. I'll testify."
Maddox's head jerked toward her. "You'd turn on a brother officer?"
"I would tell the truth about an officer," Mara replied. "There's a difference."
The quiet that followed was more damaging to him than shouting. Ellis looked at her with a mixture of fear and relief. Walsh stared at the floor. Nash, who had spent years finding reasons not to challenge misconduct, reached for a clean report form.
A low mechanical vibration passed through the building. At first it resembled a truck idling near the garage. Then the windows began to rattle. A helicopter crossed above the roof, its rotor chopping the thick air in heavy pulses. The noise filled every room.
Walsh went to the front window. "There's a convoy."