Paul Reeves joined them. "She already stepped away from direct evidence custody."
"That helps," Keller said. "But the objection goes further. Until an independent review confirms the proper boundaries, I'm recommending that Deputy Inspector General Williams not direct police evidence collection or officer interviews."
Paul's expression tightened. "You're restricting her in the middle of an active preservation operation?"
"I'm protecting the case from a challenge that will otherwise follow it into every hearing."
Harland spoke for the first time. "That is what I've been saying."
Maya turned toward him. "You've been saying whatever gives you another hour."
Harland's face remained calm. "And you've been acting as both investigator and mother."
"That's why Mr. Reeves is leading evidence operations."
"But you activated the team. You confronted Officer Mercer. You took custody of her badge."
"It was immediately documented and transferred."
Keller raised one hand. "Enough. This is exactly why we need a clean division."
For a moment, Maya wanted to argue. Every instinct in her told her that Harland was using procedure the same way he had used the fake lockdown: not because the rule itself was false, but because a legitimate rule could be twisted into protection. That was the difficulty: the conflict issue was real; if she fought too hard to remain in control, she would strengthen his argument.
Maya looked at Keller. "What are the limits?"
"You may receive updates through appropriate channels. You may remain present as Isaiah's mother. You may coordinate with your office on matters not involving direct handling of evidence from your son's case. But police interviews, property processing, and digital evidence review should remain with Reeves and the independent team."
Paul glanced at Maya. She nodded once. "Document it."
Harland's eyes narrowed slightly: he had expected resistance; Maya gave him none.
Keller left to prepare the written restriction, and Harland followed after a brief word with Ruiz.
Paul stayed behind. "You're taking this better than I am."
"I'm not taking it well."
"You don't look angry."
"I'm furious."
Paul almost smiled. "There you are."
Maya looked toward Isaiah's room. "Anger is not useful if it makes his argument stronger."
Paul lowered his voice. "He's going to tell everyone this was retaliation."
"I know. He'll say Dana was overwhelmed, that the hospital situation was confusing, that the lockdown was a judgment call. I know he'll say you turned an ordinary detention into a state investigation because you didn't like being told no." Maya looked at him. "Then make sure the evidence does not need me."
Paul understood. "That's the plan."
During the next hour, the uncertainty spread beyond the lawyers: Dana's union representative arrived and immediately began reframing the front desk confrontation. Dana had not threatened Maya, they said; she had been trying to manage an unstable situation. The baton had moved a folder, not a person. The body camera interruption could have been an equipment issue. The false lockdown had been based on information Dana believed came from a superior.
Each individual statement sounded small; placed together, they created fog. Maya had seen the technique before: truth rarely disappeared all at once; more often, it was buried beneath enough alternate explanations that people stopped being certain what they had witnessed.
Without direct authority, Maya moved to a quiet hospital conference room near the elevators. The room had beige walls, fluorescent lighting, and a long table that looked like it had hosted years of insurance meetings and staff scheduling disputes. She sat alone for several minutes.