He leaned closer to the screen.
“Go back.”
Mercer paused the footage.
“What?”
“Six seconds.”
Mercer rewound.
Ethan watched again.
Mercer approached him.
But before Mercer spoke, he looked over his shoulder.
Not casually.
He looked directly toward the administrative hallway.
Then he looked back at Ethan.
Ethan said nothing.
“Again.”
Mercer rewound.
The same movement.
Mercer looked toward the hallway.
Then approached Ethan.
Ethan looked at him.
“Who were you looking at?”
Mercer frowned.
“No one.”
“Then why did you look?”
“I don't remember.”
Ethan stared at the screen.
“You don't remember something that happened less than six hours ago?”
Mercer became defensive.
“I was focused on you.”
“You looked away before you spoke.”
Mercer crossed his arms.
“Chief, are we reviewing my conduct or every movement I made?”
“Both.”
The footage continued.
Mercer asked Ethan where he was going.
Ethan answered.
Then Mercer asked for identification.
Ethan reached toward his uniform.
Mercer grabbed his wrist.
The footage was clear.
No ambiguity.
Ethan had moved slowly.
His hand had never approached Mercer.
Mercer had initiated physical contact.
Ethan watched the moment again.
Then he looked at Mercer.
“You said you thought I was reaching for a weapon.”
“I didn't say that.”
“You said it in your report.”
Mercer stared at him.
Ethan had already read the preliminary report.
Mercer's expression hardened.
“That report was written quickly.”
“So it may be inaccurate?”
“No.”
“Then which is it?”
Mercer didn't answer.
Ethan returned his attention to the screen.
The footage continued.
Mercer handcuffed him.
He searched him.
He found the leather folder.
Then the video showed something Ethan hadn't noticed during the confrontation.
Mercer looked at the folder.
Then he looked toward the camera.
For less than a second.
His expression changed.
Ethan stopped the video.
“Right there.”
Mercer said nothing.
Ethan replayed it.
Mercer looked at the folder.
Then directly toward the camera.
Not the lens itself.
Toward the red indicator beside it.
Ethan watched again.
Mercer had known he was being recorded.
That wasn't surprising.
What bothered Ethan was what happened next.
Mercer placed the folder on the counter.
He did not open it.
He could have.
Instead, he waited.
Then the commissioner entered.
Ethan paused the footage.
“Why didn't you open the folder?”
Mercer shrugged.
“I thought it was fake.”
“You said it might contain fake credentials.”
“Yes.”
“So why didn't you check?”
Mercer looked at him.
“I was waiting for the commissioner.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Ethan stared at him.
Mercer looked uncomfortable.
“You're reading too much into it.”
“Maybe.”
Ethan stood.
“Let's see the rest.”
Mercer started the video again.
The commissioner entered.
She asked why Ethan was in handcuffs.
Mercer explained.
Then came the question.
Who handcuffed Lakewood's new Chief of Police?
Ethan watched Mercer lower his head.
He looked at his own reflection in the black edge of the monitor.
Then he noticed something else.
The footage ended at 7:08.
But the incident report said the encounter lasted until 7:12.
Ethan looked at Mercer.
“Where are the last four minutes?”
Mercer froze.
“What?”
“The footage ends at 7:08.”
Mercer leaned toward the screen.
“That can't be right.”
Ethan looked at him.
“Your report says 7:12.”
Mercer stared at the timestamp.
“I don't know.”
“Who controls the recording system?”
“IT.”
“Who can edit footage?”
“Only authorized administrators.”
“Names?”
Mercer hesitated.
“I don't know all of them.”
Ethan closed the laptop.
“Find out.”
Mercer looked at him.
“Chief…”
Ethan stood.
“And Sergeant?”
“Yes?”
“Don't touch the recording.”
Mercer said nothing.
“Don't download it.”
Silence.
“Don't move it.”
Mercer nodded.
“Understood.”
Ethan walked out.
The moment he reached the hallway, he saw Lieutenant Collins.
She was standing near the stairwell.
“You watched the footage,” she said.
Ethan stopped.
“Yes.”
“What did you find?”
Ethan looked at her.
“Why are you asking?”
Collins paused.
“Because you look like you found something.”
“I found four missing minutes.”
Her expression changed.
“You noticed that?”
“Yes.”
Collins looked down the hallway.
“Chief, we need to talk.”
“About the footage?”
“About the department.”
Ethan waited.
Collins lowered her voice.
“Not here.”
She walked toward the stairwell.
Ethan followed.
They went down one floor.
Collins entered a small records room and locked the door.
Ethan watched her.
“Why are we locking the door?”
“Because people listen.”
“Who?”
She didn't answer.
Instead, she walked toward a metal filing cabinet.
She opened the second drawer.
Then she removed a thin folder.
She placed it on the table.
Ethan looked at the label.
SERGEANT DANIEL MERCER.
“This is the Professional Standards file?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
Collins looked at him.
“A copy.”
“Why do you have a copy?”
“Because I didn't trust the original.”
Ethan opened it.
Inside were documents he had not seen earlier.
Complaints.
Witness statements.
Internal notes.
One document was dated three months earlier.
It concerned a traffic stop.
Another involved a domestic disturbance.