Internal Affairs wants copies of every body camera recording. Grant immediately answered, They'll get them. Cole didn't move. They want the original files for the first time. Grant's confidence wavered.

Only slightly. Pierce noticed. You didn't turn your camera off. Grant hesitated. Did you?

Grant looked toward the floor. It lost connection for a few minutes. Cole frowned. When? Right after I broke the window.

The room became completely silent. Pierce closed his eyes. You've got to be kidding me. Grant quickly defended himself. It happens all the time.

No. Cole replied, It doesn't. Meanwhile, in the evidence garage, Derek resumed searching the Rolls-Royce. This time, he focused on the trunk, designer luggage, emergency equipment, and neatly folded blanket. Everything appeared ordinary.

Then he noticed a slim black folder tucked beneath the spare tire cover. Grant. Grant hurried over. What did you find? Derek opened the folder.

Inside were dozens of printed financial reports, corporate filings, property records, donation receipts. Grant flipped through several pages. What is all this? The evidence technician looked over his shoulder. Looks like accounting paperwork.

Grant tossed the folder aside. Useless. None of them noticed the tiny line printed in the bottom corner of every page. Federal reference copy. The reports themselves contain nothing confidential.

They were deliberately placed there. Alyssa had known corrupt officers would search for something dramatic. Instead, she left them something painfully ordinary enough to distract, enough to waste their time. The real evidence had never been inside the vehicle. 30 miles away, inside a secure federal operation center, special agent Marcus Ellison received another encrypted update.

Status. An analyst looked up from her monitor. Agent Monroe remains in custody. What about the precinct? They've searched the vehicle four separate time.

Marcus nodded. Exactly as expected. Another analyst smiled. They still haven't found anything. They were never supposed to.

Marcus enlarged a digital map of Baltimore. Colored markers appeared across the screen. Storage facilities, federal buildings, safe deposit vaults, encrypted cloud servers. The investigation doesn't depend on one car. He looked around the room.

It never did. One agent raised an eyebrow. So, why let them keep searching? Marcus answered without hesitation. Because every illegal search becomes another federal violation.

Another notification appeared on the main monitor. Network activity detected unauthorized access to vehicle data. Marcus immediately recognized what it meant. They're trying to bypass the vehicle's encrypted computer. He turned toward the technical team.

Record everything. No interruptions. If they choose to commit cyber evidence tampering, he allowed himself a calm smile. We'll happily document that, too. Back at the sixth precinct, Grant stared at the Rolls-Royce's digital dashboard.

I know there's another compartment. He pressed another hidden button. Nothing. Then another. Still nothing.

His frustration boiled over. He slammed his fist against the polished dashboard. Open. The technician stepped back uneasily. Maybe there isn't one.

Grant glared at him. There is. Cars like this always have secrets. At that exact moment, his phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen.

Unknown number. Grant answered impatiently. What? A calm male voice spoke only one sentence. You should stop searching that car before the search becomes the least of your problem.

The line went dead. Grant slowly lowered the phone. For the first time that day, a chill ran down his spine. Someone else knew exactly what he was doing, and they were watching. Officer Grant Holloway stared at the dark screen of his phone for several seconds after the anonymous caller hung up.

His heartbeat had quickened. Someone knew he was inside the evidence garage. Someone knew exactly what he was doing. He looked around. The technician was cataloging evidence.

Officer Derek Lawson was updating inventory log. Neither seemed suspicious. Grant forced a laugh. Probably some idiot trying to scare me. But his voice no longer carried the confidence it had only an hour earlier.

Lieutenant Travis Cole entered the garage holding a thin folder. Captain wants everyone upstairs. Grant slipped the phone back into his pocket. What now? Cole's expression remained unreadable.

Internal Affairs. The conference room was unusually quiet. Captain Randall Pierce stood beside the projector as an Internal Affairs investigator appeared on a video call. The investigator wasted no time. We've reviewed the civilian videos.

Grant folded his arms. They don't show the full encounter. We're aware. We're requesting the original body camera recordings immediately. Pies answered first.

They're being processed. The investigator looked directly into the camera. Nothing is to be edited. No files are to be renamed. No metadata is to be altered.

Grant felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The investigator continued, "Any attempt to modify digital evidence will constitute a separate criminal offense." The screen went dark. Silence filled the room. Captain Pierce slowly turned toward Grant.

"Tell me something." Grant swallowed. "You didn't touch your body camera files, did you?" Grant hesitated just long enough. "I only checked the recording."

Cole's eyes narrowed. "You accessed it." "I wanted to make sure everything downloaded." Pierce slammed both hands onto the conference table. "I specifically told everyone not to touch anything."

Grant's patience finally cracked. "So what? I made one traffic stop. You'd think I robbed a bank." Pierce pointed toward the television mounted on the wall.

The evening news had already begun. Grant's own face filled the screen. Behind him, the unmistakable image of Alyssa being pulled from her Rolls-Royce replayed repeatedly. The anchor spoke calmly. "New eyewitnesses have come forward claiming the driver remained cooperative throughout the encounter."

Another clip appeared. This time the elderly attorney. "I've practiced constitutional law for over three decades. What I witnessed today was not policing. It was abuse of authority."

Grant cursed under his breath. Pierce muted the television. "You've become the story." Across the building, Officer Emily Foster quietly approached interview room three. She unlocked the door.

"Alyssa." Alyssa looked up. Emily lowered her voice. "They're talking about charging you with resisting arrest." Alyssa wasn't surprised.

"Even though the videos show otherwise." Emily nodded sadly. "They're rewriting the reports." Alyssa took a slow breath. "And the witnesses?