Dana was sent to find out.
Quietly.
No official motorcade.
No announcement to Reeves.
No local liaison.
She rented a car.
Booked an ordinary motel room.
Ate in ordinary restaurants.
Drove ordinary roads.
And waited.
She had been in town less than a day when Reeves approached her breakfast table.
The plan had never been to provoke him.
Dana did not need manufactured misconduct.
If the complaints were exaggerated, she wanted to know that too.
Her assignment depended on observing what normally happened.
That was why she had not immediately produced the federal credential.
She gave Reeves her real name.
She answered his questions.
When he demanded identification, she reached for it.
He stopped her.
Then blamed her for moving.
When she asked why she was being questioned, he gave no specific incident.
When a witness objected, Reeves ordered him to stay out of it.
Dana did not need to invent a test.
Reeves created one for himself.
The sheriff stared at the badge.
His eyes narrowed.
“What agency?”
Dana told him.
That seemed to make things worse.
Reeves stepped away from the table.
“You came here looking for me.”
“I came here to eat breakfast.”
“Don’t play games.”
Dana nodded toward the broken pool of coffee.
“I wasn’t the one who interrupted it.”
His eyes moved toward the other customers.
Reeves seemed to notice the witnesses again.
Then the cameras.
One above the entrance.
Another near the cash register.
His expression changed.
Dana saw it.
“So now you’re looking for cameras.”
“I know where the cameras are.”
“I’m sure you do.”
Reeves lowered his voice.
“You set me up.”
Dana shook her head.
“I ordered eggs.”
She looked at her wrist.
“You did the rest.”
There was one thing Reeves did not yet know.
The diner’s cameras were not the only recording devices.
A compact recorder had been running inside Dana’s jacket from the moment he approached.
It was part of her authorized field documentation.
She told him.