Then:
“She refused to identify herself.”
Maya looked at her.
“I followed the access instructions attached to the credential.”
“You let this happen.”
“No.”
Maya’s voice remained level.
“I let you make your own decisions.”
Mercer stepped between them.
“That is enough.”
He looked at Rebecca first.
Then Maya.
“From this point forward, we handle this professionally.”
Maya nodded toward the front desk.
“Then preserve the front desk video.”
Mercer frowned.
“The video will be available.”
“Preserve it now.”
“Our IT staff can prepare copies.”
“No.”
The answer came fast enough that Mercer stopped.
Maya continued.
“No one exports anything. No one deletes anything. No one changes retention settings. Preserve the original environment before copies are created.”
Rebecca crossed her arms again.
“You don’t get to take control of an entire police network because somebody tore a credential.”
Maya looked at her.
“This was never a credential investigation.”
The words changed the room.
Mercer looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
Before Maya answered, a woman appeared near the entrance to the evidence office.
She was in her early fifties, dark hair threaded with silver, reading glasses hanging from a cord around her neck.
Her badge identified her as LENA ORTIZ, DIGITAL EVIDENCE ADMINISTRATOR.
She had been standing close enough to hear the last exchange.
“Agent Williams?”
Maya turned.
“If you’re here to preserve the digital evidence environment, you need to start before more records disappear.”
Chief Mercer’s face hardened.
“Lena.”
She looked at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“The administrative logs.”
“What about them?”
“They’re overwriting too fast.”
Maya stepped toward her.
“How long?”
“About three weeks.”
“Who changed retention?”
Lena hesitated.
“That’s part of the problem.”
Mercer came closer.
“What problem?”
“The record showing who changed it is already gone.”
Rebecca spoke immediately.
“If history is cycling automatically, that doesn’t mean anybody deleted anything.”
Maya looked at her.
“I didn’t say anyone deleted it.”
Rebecca stopped.
The distinction mattered.
Maya turned back to Lena.
“Show me.”
The digital evidence office was secured behind two access-controlled doors.
Before entering, Maya stopped at the threshold.
“Who has administrator privileges?”
Lena counted them carefully.
“I have evidence-administrator rights. Chief Mercer has executive authority. Lieutenant Sloan has security permissions and limited evidence functions.”
“And contractors?”
“Sloan Integrated Systems.”
Maya’s eyes shifted toward Rebecca.
Rebecca did not look away.
“My brother owns the company.”
Mercer added:
“The relationship was disclosed. The contract went through city procurement and legal review.”
Maya nodded.
“Then the record should confirm that.”
Rebecca seemed almost irritated by the neutral response.
Maya continued.
“What level does the contractor have?”
“Maintenance certificates.”
“Limited?”
“They were supposed to be.”
Lena sat at her workstation.
She opened the audit console.
Rows of entries appeared.
Recent actions displayed clearly.
Account.
Timestamp.
Authentication certificate.