The desk officer entered her identification and leaned closer to the monitor. "Name and address match," he said. Then he frowned and clicked through another screen. "There is a limited-access federal identifier attached to this record.
Mercer moved nearer. "Can you tell us what it is? "Not from this terminal. It only confirms identity and tells me the record has restrictions."
"Why is your record restricted? Mercer demanded. "My identity has been confirmed," Maya said. "That was the reason you gave for bringing me here.
"That wasn't what I asked. "No," she answered. "It wasn't. The desk officer looked between them, increasingly reluctant to enter information unsupported by the documents lying in front of him.
Bennett came through the door carrying a clipboard. Maya noticed that several lines on the detention form were blank, including a section for the time the towing company had been requested. "Officer Bennett," she asked, "when was the tow dispatched? Mercer took the clipboard from him before he could answer.
"You're not here to interrogate officers," he said. Maya kept her eyes on the empty boxes. "Then make sure those times are entered accurately."
Mercer ordered her taken to a small interview room, where the handcuffs were finally removed. The room contained a metal table, three mismatched chairs, and a ceiling vent that made a low whistling noise. Maya sat facing the door and examined the temporary indentations on her wrists. The discomfort was manageable; the more troubling realization was that every reasonable act of cooperation had led only to another demand. Compliance, she thought, had never been the missing ingredient.
Mercer returned with a typed report and a pen. He pushed both across the table. "Read this and sign the bottom." Maya went through the pages slowly, paying close attention to the chronology. The report claimed she had failed to explain ownership, delayed an official inspection, and refused multiple lawful instructions, none of which matched the documents she had supplied or the events recorded at the roadside. It also authorized a prolonged administrative hold on the Ducati that could last up to thirty days.
"My registration, insurance, and purchase record all matched," she said. "Verification isn't complete," Mercer answered. "This says I couldn't explain who owns the motorcycle. "You argued instead of cooperating.
Maya pushed the document back toward him. "Then the report is inaccurate. I won't sign something I know is false."
Mercer tapped the blank signature line. "Refusing to sign makes the process longer." "Correct the report, and I'll acknowledge that you've given me a copy," Maya said. He watched her for a long moment, evidently deciding whether another threat would help. Finally, he gathered the paper and left. Maya listened to the door latch close and wondered how many people had put their names to similar statements simply because they wanted to go home.
At 2:37 p.m., a desk officer allowed Maya one telephone call. She dialed a number from memory and waited while it rang twice. "Eleanor Price," answered an older woman's voice. "Eleanor, it's Maya.
Please write down the time and location before we talk about anything else. Paper rustled at the other end. "I'm ready."
"Two thirty-seven. Monroe County Sheriff's Department. Kingsley Towing has my Ducati, and I'm being held without a clearly identified offense. Eleanor's voice lost its conversational tone immediately.