Even Ryker had no answer for that.
Then the landline rang.
Brenda jumped.
She picked it up.
“Pine Creek Sheriff’s Office.”
She listened.
Her face lost what little color remained.
“Sheriff…”
Ryker looked irritated.
“What now?”
Brenda pressed the speaker button.
A man’s voice came through.
Firm.
Professional.
“Sheriff Thomas Ryker?”
Ryker stepped closer.
“This is Ryker.”
“This is Special Agent Daniel Collins with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. We have been attempting to contact Assistant Counsel Sarah Reynolds for twenty-five minutes.”
Ryker said nothing.
“Our location system currently places her secure federal device inside your station.”
Another pause.
“Confirm her status.”
Ryker glanced at Sarah.
“She’s here.”
“Is she detained?”
Ryker hesitated.
Sarah answered for him.
“I am handcuffed, Agent Collins.”
The other end went silent.
Then:
“Ms. Reynolds?”
“Yes.”
“Are you injured?”
“My wrists are bruised. Sheriff Ryker used force during booking.”
Ryker snapped:
“She was resisting—”
Sarah turned her head toward him.
“That statement is being made directly underneath your booking-room camera.”
Ryker stopped.
Collins’s voice became even colder.
“Sheriff Ryker, remove the restraints immediately.”
Ryker’s jaw clenched.
“Agent, with respect—”
“Do not interrupt or disable any recording system.”
Ryker went still.
“Preserve body-camera footage, booking footage, dispatch traffic, vehicle video, and all electronic logs associated with Ms. Reynolds’s detention.”
Then came the sentence that finally erased the sheriff’s smirk.
“No one involved in this detention is to leave the building until investigators arrive.”
Ryker looked at Brenda.
She looked away.
Sarah lifted her cuffed wrists slightly.
“Sheriff?”
He took out the key.
His fingers were no longer steady.
Click.
One cuff opened.
Then the other.
Sarah slowly rubbed the red marks around her wrists.
Ryker stepped backward.
Sarah never broke eye contact.
“You should understand something.”
Ryker said nothing.
“You were not trapped.”
A pause.
“You were documented.”
Twenty-seven minutes later, three unmarked vehicles pulled into the sheriff’s station parking lot.
Special Agent Daniel Collins entered first.
Tall.
Lean.
Gray beginning at his temples.
Dark suit beneath a raincoat.
Behind him came a state internal-affairs investigator and two federal personnel.
Collins walked straight to Sarah.
“Counsel Reynolds.”
“Agent Collins.”
His eyes went immediately to her wrists.
“Medical attention?”
“Photographs first.”
He nodded.
“Understood.”
Ryker stepped forward.
“She was obstructing—”
Collins turned toward him.
“You should speak with counsel before making additional statements.”
That shut him up.
Within minutes, the station no longer felt like Ryker’s territory.
Body cameras were secured.
The booking system was locked against edits.
Dispatch logs were copied.
Vehicle-camera footage was preserved.
An investigator drove to the impound area and retrieved the sealed brown document bag from Sarah’s SUV.
Ten minutes later, Collins placed Sarah’s credential case on the booking counter.
Brenda looked at it.
Black leather.
Silver federal seal.
SARAH E. REYNOLDS
Her hand rose instinctively toward her mouth.
Miller sank into a chair.
Ryker said nothing.
But the real twist was still coming.
Sarah looked across the counter at Brenda.
“Do you still have the old reports?”
Brenda froze.
Ryker’s head snapped toward her.
“What reports?”
Sarah ignored him.
“The original versions. Before corrections.”
Brenda’s hands began trembling.
Collins watched closely.
“What corrections?” he asked.
Brenda looked at Ryker.
Then at Miller.
Then down at the counter.
For almost twenty years, Brenda had worked in that station.
She had seen arrests.
Arguments.
Complaints.
Night-shift mistakes.
Bad tempers.
She had also seen reports change after people were already locked in cells.
Times adjusted.
Descriptions strengthened.
“Uncooperative” added.
“Threatening posture.”
“Reached toward waistband.”
“Strong odor of alcohol.”
Phrases that sometimes appeared only after the arrest had already happened.
Brenda had never publicly accused anyone.
But she had done something else.
Quietly.
Privately.
She had saved copies.
Now Sarah asked again: