Kavalik stepped forward.
“You don’t run my station.”
Karen rose.
“No. I’m a victim inside it.”
Then she looked at each person in the room.
“Preserve every seizure record from this department.”
Kavalik’s face became almost colorless.
Osei whispered one final sentence.
“It goes back years.”
And somewhere behind the booking desk, a printer suddenly began producing pages nobody had asked it to print.
Rebecca stared at the printer.
One page slid out.
Then another.
Then another.
“What is that?” Kavalik demanded.
“I didn’t print anything.”
He moved toward the machine.
Karen moved too.
Not to touch the documents.
To see them.
The first page contained vehicle identification numbers.
The second contained dates.
The third contained handwritten-style electronic notes beside estimated values.
BMW M4 — $61,000.
Porsche Cayenne — $72,000.
Ford F-250 Platinum — $68,500.
Mercedes AMG — $94,000.
Kavalik reached for the pages.
Rebecca snatched them first.
“Those are system-generated audit sheets.”
“Give them to me.”
“Sheriff—”
“Now.”
Karen stepped between them.
“Don’t.”
Kavalik stared at her.
“You are not on your bench, Judge.”
“No.”
Karen’s voice remained calm.
“That means I have fewer powers here than you do. It also means anything you do next will be witnessed by a federal judge who is currently the complaining victim.”
The words stopped him.
Barely.
Deputy Osei watched the hallway.
Halverson shifted near the booking desk.
Rebecca looked at her monitor.
“Oh, God.”
Karen turned.
“What?”
“The printer started because the records system logged an export request.”
“From where?”
Rebecca clicked through the audit screen.
“Sheriff’s administrative office.”
Everyone looked at Kavalik.
His expression did not change quickly enough.
Karen saw recognition before confusion replaced it.
Kavalik said, “Automated backup.”
Rebecca slowly shook her head.
“No. Manual export.”
“Rebecca.”
She looked at him.
The warning in his voice was obvious.
Something else appeared on her screen.
A deletion confirmation box.
Rebecca’s hands left the keyboard.
“I’m not doing that.”
Karen moved close enough to read the message.
ADMINISTRATOR REQUEST: PURGE TEMPORARY SEIZURE EXPORT.
Kavalik headed toward his office.
Osei blocked the hallway.
The young deputy looked terrified, but he did not move.
Kavalik stopped inches from him.
“Get out of my way.”
Osei’s voice shook.
“No, sir.”
“What did you say?”
“No.”
For a moment, nobody breathed.
Then Kavalik smiled.
It was more frightening than his anger.
“You really want to end your career today?”
Osei swallowed.
“My career ended the first time I kept quiet.”
That sentence changed the room.
Karen heard shame beneath it.
Not heroism.
Shame.
Kavalik shoved past him.
Karen immediately turned to Rebecca.
“Is there a way to lock the audit terminal?”
“Only an administrator can—”
“Who has administrator credentials?”
Rebecca glanced toward Kavalik’s office.
“The sheriff.”
Halverson muttered, “And the chief clerk.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“You know that?”
Halverson realized he had said too much.
Karen studied him.
“What else do you know?”
He looked away.
Kavalik’s office door slammed.
Rebecca’s monitor went black.
Then restarted.
The vehicle list disappeared.
Osei swore.
Karen looked at the printed pages in Rebecca’s hands.
“Make copies.”
“The copier is outside his office.”
“Photograph them.”
Rebecca pulled out her phone.
Halverson suddenly said, “Don’t use station Wi-Fi.”
Everyone looked at him.
He swallowed.
“It logs devices.”
Karen held his gaze.
“How long have you known?”
“I don’t know what I know.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
Osei laughed bitterly.
“You cuffed her.”
Halverson snapped, “I know what I did.”
Karen raised a hand.
“Stop.”
Both deputies fell silent.
Karen understood something important.
Fear had divided this department into categories.
Those benefiting from corruption.
Those obeying corruption.
Those recording corruption.
And those pretending not to see it.
She did not yet know where Halverson belonged.
Kavalik returned holding Karen’s helmet.
He placed it on the counter.
“Judge Ashworth-Reyes, you are free to leave.”
Karen looked at him.
“And my motorcycle?”
“Administrative hold.”
“Under what statutory authority?”
“Pending ownership verification.”
“Rebecca already verified ownership.”
Kavalik’s jaw tightened.
“There are discrepancies.”
“Name one.”
Silence.
Karen stepped closer.
“Where is the Ducati?”
“Kingsland Recovery.”
“Exact address?”
“You can collect it after processing.”
Karen glanced at Rebecca.
“What processing?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“There shouldn’t be any.”
Kavalik slammed his palm down.
“You work for me.”
Rebecca visibly flinched.
Karen watched her.
“Do you?”
Rebecca stared at the sheriff.
“No.”
The word was quiet.
But final.
Kavalik laughed.
“You people have lost your minds.”
Karen said, “No, Sheriff. I think some of them just found them.”
He pointed toward the exit.
“Get out.”
Karen picked up her helmet.
Her right wrist was beginning to swell where the cuff had bitten into it.
She ignored the pain.
“I’ll need my credentials returned.”
Halverson looked startled.
Rebecca looked toward Kavalik.
Karen understood immediately.
“You took them?”
Kavalik said nothing.
“My federal identification.”
“You’ll get everything back.”
“Where is it?”
“Evidence.”
“For what crime?”
His face tightened.
Karen stepped closer.
“Sheriff Kavalik, listen carefully. I am leaving because remaining here while tensions escalate serves no purpose. I am not consenting to the seizure of my motorcycle, my identification, my property or any information obtained from them.”
Kavalik’s mouth curled.
“You always talk like a judge?”
“Only when people force me to explain things they already understand.”
Osei almost smiled.
Karen turned to him.
“Do you have somewhere safe to stay tonight?”
The question startled him.
Kavalik laughed.
“Now she thinks she’s rescuing you.”
Osei looked toward the sheriff.
Then back to Karen.
“No.”
That answer mattered more than everything else he had said.
Karen nodded once.
“Do not contact me from department equipment.”
Kavalik’s expression darkened.
“You giving my deputies secret instructions?”
“I’m advising a potential witness not to compromise evidence.”
She walked toward the door.
Halverson followed with her jacket.
Outside, afternoon sunlight made Karen squint.
A woman stood beside the sedan that had recorded the roadside arrest.
She was perhaps fifty.
She held her phone nervously.
“Judge?”
Karen stopped.
“I saw everything.”
Behind Karen, the station door opened.
Kavalik appeared.
The woman immediately stepped backward.