"I've seen the log," Ashley said, not even looking at him. "I don't need your explanation. I need to know why a man in your position thought breaking federal protocol was worth the risk."
"There was reasonable suspicion of—"
"There was a $500 demand," Ashley said. And for the first time, real heat crept into her voice. "Don't insult me, Sergeant. I've read the incident timeline against the satellite data. The math doesn't work in your favor."
Bruce's mouth opened, then shut. For the first time since the highway shoulder, Nathan watched something crack in him: not guilt, not exactly, but the particular fear of a man who'd never once imagined somebody with more power than him showing up to ask questions.
Vermont stepped in fast, the way people do when they smell their own name getting dragged into something. "Colonel, I assure you, this department takes this seriously. We'll open a full internal review effective immediately and—"
"An internal review," Ashley repeated, like she was tasting something sour.
"We handle these matters carefully and thoroughly. I won't have this turned into a media circus before all the facts are established." Vermont's voice hardened just slightly, drawing a line. "I'm sure we can cooperate fully while keeping this contained to the proper channels."
Ashley studied her for a long moment. Nathan could see the calculation behind her eyes: a woman deciding whether pushing harder right now would get her further than stepping back and watching.
Finally, she closed her folder. "You have one week," she said. "After that, this becomes a federal matter whether your department is ready or not. And Chief: I'll be auditing every shipment delay logged on that corridor for the past year. Every single one." Her eyes flicked once, briefly, to Bruce. "I have a feeling I won't like what I find."
She turned and walked out without another word, heels sharp against the tile.
Bruce stood frozen by the front desk, humiliated in front of his own chief for the first time in longer than he could remember. Vermont didn't look at him. She just turned back toward her office, already thinking three moves ahead.
Nathan sat quietly near the wall, watching it all unfold, and understood something clear as daylight: the clock Ashley just started wasn't going to stop for anybody—not even Bruce.
That same afternoon, Colonel Ashley sat in a borrowed office three blocks from the precinct: laptop open, coffee going cold beside her. She'd pulled every shipment log tied to that stretch of interstate going back twelve months. It was tedious work, cross-referencing delay reports against officer assignments, but tedious work had cracked bigger cases than this one. She wasn't looking for a single mistake anymore; she was looking for a habit.