Hale walked over to Ruth before leaving. "You've recorded enough," he said. Ruth lowered her phone only enough to look at him over its edge. "I'll decide that myself.
"This is an active county operation. Publishing incomplete information could mislead people. "Then complete it for me," Ruth answered. "What is the stolen-vehicle report number?"
Hale offered no number. He returned to Mercer and instructed him to take Maya to the station, then warned the towing driver not to disconnect anything on the motorcycle. The driver nodded and continued securing the machine with careful straps, as if worried more about scratching the fairing than about the legality of his instructions. Mercer lingered beside the display for a moment before climbing into the front passenger seat. When he did, his face showed annoyance rather than relief.
Bennett got behind the wheel and checked the mirrors. He watched Maya in the rearview mirror for a moment. "Your seatbelt's on the right," he said. With her hands cuffed behind her, Maya couldn't reach it properly, and she tried twice before stopping.
Bennett opened his door, came around to the rear, and fastened the belt for her without making eye contact. "Thank you," she said quietly. He closed the door and returned to the driver's seat.
For the first minute of the drive, no one spoke. The patrol car passed storefronts, a tire shop, and a church with a hand-painted community notice beside its driveway. Maya recognized the part of town from trips through the county years earlier, when she and Daniel had stopped for coffee on their way north. Back then, Kingsley Boulevard had been just another stretch of road between two places they loved. Now she watched it through a rear window, her wrists restrained, while the motorcycle that carried his memory was being loaded onto a private truck.
"You seem very interested in procedure," Mercer said at last, turning halfway in his seat. "I'm interested in what you're doing in the name of procedure," Maya answered. "You were told the motorcycle required verification. "You verified it.
"Documents can be altered. Maya looked directly at him. "So can reports."
Bennett kept his eyes on the road. Mercer looked at him as though expecting support, but none came. "You should be careful what you say when we get to the station," Mercer told Maya. She watched the downtown buildings approach through the windshield. "I already am," she replied. Mercer faced forward again and said nothing for the rest of the drive.
The Monroe County Sheriff's Department occupied a brick building beside the county administrative complex. Bennett entered through an employee driveway and parked near a processing entrance away from the public lobby. Mercer opened Maya's door and told her to step out, keeping one hand near her elbow without touching her. Inside, an air conditioner rattled above a row of molded plastic chairs, and an old wall clock read 2:18 p.m. A desk officer looked up from his computer as Mercer brought her to the counter.
"Charge?" the desk officer asked. "Administrative noncompliance during vehicle verification," Mercer said. The officer stopped typing. "Is that the charge, or the reason for the hold?
"Put it down as the hold reason. Possible stolen property. Kingsley has the motorcycle. Maya said nothing while her license and registration were laid on the counter. She wanted to hear how the story would sound when the officers had to put it into the computer.