"Public building," Clara replied calmly. "And this is a story of public interest."
Back in the interview room, Sonya gathered her materials. "We're ready to leave through the front door."
"The media—" Keats started.
"—will see exactly who you arrested today," Sonya finished. "A respected military spouse and retired federal employee who committed no crime but was treated like a criminal. That's not our problem to manage, Chief Keats. It's yours."
Evelyn stood, smoothing her jacket. Despite hours in a holding cell, she carried herself with unshakable composure. Her wedding ring caught the light as she adjusted her necklace.
"One more thing," Sonya added. "We'll need copies of all footage, radio traffic, and documents related to this incident. I'm sure you understand why."
Keats' jaw tightened, but she nodded to the records clerk hovering nearby.
They moved toward the lobby where the media lights created a wall of white through the glass doors. Clara Vance watched Evelyn's measured steps, noting how officers moved aside, some averting their eyes. This wasn't just about one bad arrest or one officer's prejudice: this was about power, accountability, and what happened when the system chose the wrong target.
Evelyn paused at the doors, squaring her shoulders. Camera flashes sparked like lightning against the glass. Behind her, Rourke stood in the hallway, his face twisted with the realization that his actions had sparked something far beyond his control. Halverson remained at his desk, still staring at his blank report form.
Sonya placed a steady hand on the door. "Ready?"
Evelyn nodded, her dignity intact despite everything they'd put her through. "Ready."
In the quiet of room 214 at the Bellhaven Motor Lodge, Evelyn sat in an armchair beneath flickering fluorescent lights, her hand steady as she arranged her thoughts. Sonya Vale spread documents across the small table while Clara Vance's recorder blinked red. Raymond's face watched from a secure tablet propped against a lamp.
"Start from the beginning," Sonya said, pen poised. "Every detail matters."
Evelyn's voice remained measured, professional. "I pulled in around 5:40 p.m. The station wasn't busy, maybe four other vehicles total. I noticed the cashier watching me through the window before I even got out of the car."
"This would be Lorna Pike," Clara confirmed, checking her notes.