"I can get you an official copy," Emily said. "Chain of custody, signed and dated, sent straight to your office."
"Please do. As soon as possible."
Emily promised she would, and Natasha left the office feeling for the first time in days like she had solid ground under her feet.
Across the building in an office with the blinds drawn, Skyler sat across from Bailey, both of them quiet for a moment after she'd finished explaining what her contact in records had just told her: that the new captain had spent the better part of a week pulling old mall precinct files going back years.
"She's not just going after me," Bailey said slowly, understanding dawning on his face. "She's going after the whole thing."
"She's going after both of us," Skyler corrected, her voice tight. "And if she gets that hearing on the calendar with everything she's found, we're not looking at a grievance anymore. We're looking at criminal referrals, careers ending, mine included."
Bailey leaned forward. "So, what do we do?"
Skyler was quiet for a moment, turning something over in her mind, weighing options that had nothing to do with procedure anymore. "We stop her," she said finally, "before she gets the chance."
By the following week, Natasha had everything assembled: Smith's body cam footage, permanently logged with Internal Affairs; the three prior complaints from the mall precinct, each one settled quietly and signed off by Skyler; her own written account of the arrest, timestamps and all. She'd even reached back out to Emily Frank, asking gently whether any backup of the original store footage might still exist somewhere, even after the official copy had vanished.
Emily had gone quiet on the phone for a second too long before answering that she'd check.
Natasha organized it all into a single case file, thick and complete, copied three separate times so no single missing folder could stop it. She called Councilwoman Olivia Maison's office directly, requesting time in front of the city's police oversight committee—a body with the authority to review complaints independent of the department itself, outside Skyler's reach entirely.
Maison's office scheduled her for the following Monday.
Natasha allowed herself, for the first time in weeks, to feel something close to relief. The hearing was set. The evidence was solid. Smith's footage couldn't be deleted. The old complaints couldn't be explained away as coincidence. She'd built something Skyler couldn't quietly bury with a memo.
She spent the weekend rehearsing what she'd say, laying the copies out on her kitchen table in order, feeling for the first time like the ground under her feet was actually solid.
Sunday night, her phone rang. It was Austin's replacement in administration, a voice she barely recognized, formal and stiff: "Captain Romer Connor, I'm calling to inform you that effective immediately, you're being placed on administrative leave pending an internal review."
Natasha went very still. "On what grounds?"
"An anonymous complaint was filed against you Friday evening, alleging misuse of your position to pursue a personal vendetta against a subordinate officer. Given the seriousness of the allegation, Deputy Chief Skyler has authorized immediate leave pending investigation."
"That complaint is fabricated," Natasha said, her voice tight but level. "You understand that, right? I have a hearing scheduled tomorrow morning with the city oversight committee."
"That hearing has been postponed indefinitely pending the outcome of this review," the voice said, almost apologetic now, like even he could hear how convenient the timing was. "You'll need to surrender your badge and building access until further notice."
Natasha sat down slowly at her kitchen table, the copies of her case files still spread out in front of her, and let the words sink in. They'd found a way to stop her without ever touching the evidence. They didn't need to disprove anything she'd gathered; they just needed to remove her from the room before anyone official ever saw it.
She thought about calling Smith, but her calls to him over the past few days had already started going unanswered: short, delayed texts instead of his usual quick replies. She understood why. He'd watched what happened to people who pushed against the system from the inside. He was scared, and she couldn't blame him for that, even as it left her feeling more alone than she had since the day Bailey first grabbed her arm in that mall corridor.
Monday morning, she drove to headquarters anyway, badge in hand, and turned it over at the front desk exactly as instructed. The officer at the desk wouldn't meet her eyes; word had already spread through the building overnight. She walked back out to her car in the parking lot she used to walk into as captain, and sat behind the wheel for a long time without starting the engine. It felt like the entire system had closed its fist around her at once: Bailey still working, Skyler still in power, the hearing gone, her badge gone, even Smith gone quiet. Everything she'd built over the past three weeks seemed to be collapsing in a single weekend.
But when she finally looked over at the passenger seat, something was still sitting there, untouched by any of it: the manila folder, copied three times, complete. They could suspend her badge. They could postpone her hearing. They could isolate her from every ally inside the building. But they couldn't touch the one thing that didn't require a badge or a building access card to matter—the truth, sitting in black and white, addressed by hand to Councilwoman Maison's office.
Natasha picked up the folder, turned it over in her hands once, and started the engine. If the department wouldn't let her walk through the front door anymore, she'd find another way in.
Natasha didn't go home. She drove straight across town, the manila folder sitting on the passenger seat where it had spent the whole weekend, and pulled into the small parking lot outside the city administration building before she'd fully decided what she was going to say when she got inside.
Councilwoman Olivia Maison's office was on the third floor, tucked behind a set of glass doors with the city seal painted across them. Natasha hadn't called ahead; she didn't want to risk this getting quietly rerouted the way her hearing had.
The receptionist looked up, a little startled by the badgeless woman standing in the doorway with a thick folder pressed against her chest. "Can I help you?"
"ネルギーI need five minutes with Councilwoman Maison," Natasha said. "It's urgent, and it involves the Fairhaven Police Department."
Something in her voice must have carried weight, because the receptionist picked up the phone instead of turning her away.