Maya's voice lowered. "Tried?"
"The deletion request didn't complete. The system keeps a separate administrative record. Whoever did it either didn't know that or thought they had more access than they actually had."
"Preserve both."
"Already done."
Maya looked through the glass toward Isaiah: he was sitting more comfortably now, speaking with Dr. Caldwell while Evelyn adjusted equipment nearby.
"Listen carefully," Maya said. "Do not expose yourself trying to find more. Preserve what you have and stop accessing anything you don't normally need for your job."
The man was silent for several seconds. Then he said, "Understood."
The call ended.
Maya returned to Paul. "He contacted me again."
Paul looked up from his tablet. "Our anonymous friend?"
She summarized the call, making clear what the source knew and what he could not prove.
Paul listened carefully. "If the deletion attempt is preserved independently, that matters. It matters more if we can corroborate it without burning him."
Paul nodded. "I'll have counsel make a formal preservation request through hospital administration. That gives us another path to the same records."
That was precisely why Maya had stepped back: information passed privately could start a direction; it could not be allowed to become the only foundation beneath the case.
Paul turned the tablet toward her, but kept it in his own hands. "We also started pulling older incidents connected to the hospital liaison unit."
Maya read the summary without touching the device:
* The first case involved a retired transit worker whose personal property had been entered into evidence several hours after he was discharged.
* The second involved a middle-aged nurse who filed a complaint after police temporarily restricted access to her brother during treatment.
* A warehouse supervisor had complained that officers moved belongings through the liaison room before standard precinct intake.
* A small business owner had challenged a security hold that later appeared in police records under different language.
Different people, different backgrounds, different circumstances. The pattern was not racial; it was procedural: each situation involved someone vulnerable enough to be controlled temporarily—a hospitalized patient, a frightened family member, a person under uncertain detention, or someone unable to see what happened after their belongings disappeared behind a restricted door.
Paul scrolled farther. "Look at the language."
Several reports contained nearly identical phrases:
*Temporary security concern.*
*Property retained pending clarification.*
*Complainant became disruptive.*
*Documentation completed after stabilization.*
Maya's eyes narrowed. "Same wording across different years. Same reviewers: Dana appears in several, Harland appears in more."
Paul opened another entry. The original complaint had been filed by a 58-year-old mechanic after property collected during hospital treatment appeared in a police evidence record much later that night. The complaint had been administratively closed after a supervisory review; Harland's name appeared at the bottom.