Claire Donovan was the assistant United States attorney assigned to the investigation. She had spent months warning the team that misconduct inside the sheriff's office would be difficult to prove if every witness depended on that office for employment or protection. Now she received a call describing an encounter that had produced multiple independent records in less than fifteen minutes.
Mercer watched Nia photographing the latch. "You people are acting like somebody committed a violent crime."
"We're preserving facts," Simone said. "You should appreciate that."
"I had a tip about this car."
The sentence came out before he seemed to realize he had said it. Simone let it remain between them.
"What did the tip say?"
"Black SUV. Possibly stolen equipment."
"When did you receive it?"
"This morning."
"From whom?"
"Anonymous source."
"Was the source specific about the driver?"
Mercer looked at her face and hesitated. "Just the vehicle."
"Then how did you know to follow me through three intersections before you activated your lights?"
"I didn't follow you. I observed a traffic violation."
"Your reason for stopping me has changed twice in the last five minutes."
"That's not what happened."
"We'll preserve the dash footage and compare it with your report."
A phone rang inside Mercer's pocket. He glanced at the screen. For an instant, Simone saw the caller's name before he turned the display inward: Frank Talbot. Mercer silenced the call. He looked over her shoulder at the federal vehicles, then toward a narrow road that led away from the neighborhood. His anger was no longer uncomplicated. He was thinking about who had called him, what they might have heard, and how quickly this encounter could travel beyond his control.
Keller cleared his throat. "Sheriff, I need to get back to patrol."
"You're staying," Mercer snapped.
Simone looked at Reed. "Can we speak privately for a moment?"
They stepped toward the second federal vehicle, leaving Nia with the open cargo area and the other agents near the evidence cases. Simone lowered her voice. "Keller is in our warehouse images. Talbot just called Mercer. The sheriff's stated grounds for the stop are inconsistent, and both men looked into the rear before there was anything observable inside it. Mercer may have been trying to retrieve the records we transported this morning."
"Do you think he knew who you were?"
"I don't think he cared who I was. I think he was told what the car carried, and he believed he could use a traffic stop to get at it."
Reed nodded slowly. "We have probable cause on Keller for the warehouse diversions from the existing evidence. Claire's been waiting on the charging packet. Mercer is different."
"I know. A bad stop is not proof he directed the theft."
"Let's keep them separate until the evidence brings them together."
That was one reason Simone trusted Reed. He never mistook a satisfying theory for a completed investigation.
Across the street, a gray-haired man had stepped onto his porch with a coffee mug. He seemed determined not to stare directly at the federal agents, though he had been watching every moment since Mercer first ordered Simone out. A woman in a red cardigan stood beside him, her cell phone lowered after recording a short video. The ordinary details of the street made the scene more disturbing. Children would walk along this sidewalk later. Neighbors would drive through the intersection on their way to work. People had been stopped here before, and many of them had not been carrying federal identification.