Daniel Mercer arrived at the precinct shortly before eight the following morning, wearing civilian clothes and carrying a folder containing his attorney's notes. He had been placed on administrative leave, but he had been instructed to attend a scheduled interview concerning the restroom assault and the related records review.
He entered through the front lobby, avoiding the officers gathered near the duty desk.
Some looked away when he passed. Others watched him openly.
Daniel hated the attention.
He had spent years walking through the building with the confidence of someone who understood its unwritten rules. Younger officers sought his advice. Supervisors trusted his experience. He knew which conversations could be resolved quietly and which needed formal documentation.
Now he felt every glance as a judgment.
In the interview room, Captain Foster sat across from him with a recorder and a stack of documents. His attorney, Martin Ellis, occupied the chair beside him.
“Before we begin,” Foster said, “I want to confirm that you understand this interview concerns the physical confrontation with Officer Mitchell and questions arising from the related case records.”
Daniel nodded.
“I understand.”
“You have the right to consult with your attorney. You are not required to guess or speculate. If you do not remember something, say so.”
Ellis added, “My client will answer factual questions to the extent advised.”
Foster began with the restroom incident.
“Did you grab Officer Mitchell by the collar?”
Daniel shifted in his chair.
“We had a heated exchange. I may have grabbed his shirt while trying to keep him from leaving.”
“Did he attempt to leave?”
“I don't remember exactly.”
“Did you strike him?”
Daniel looked toward his attorney.
“I was defending myself.”
Foster did not raise her voice.
“Did you strike him before he took you to the floor?”
“I remember a struggle. I don't remember the exact sequence.”
Foster placed a photograph of Andre's injury on the table.
“Officer Mitchell had a cut on his lip. You had no comparable facial injury. The hallway footage shows you entering the restroom after him and remaining inside for several minutes before Officer Brooks arrived. It does not show the physical confrontation, but it establishes the sequence of your arrival.”
Daniel stared at the photograph.
“What does that prove?”
“Nothing by itself,” Foster replied. “That's why I'm asking questions.”
She moved to the briefing-room recording.
“Did Officer Mitchell accuse you of falsifying a report?”
“No.”
“Did he raise a discrepancy between your incident report and the dispatch record?”
“Yes.”
“Was his concern professionally reasonable?”
Daniel's jaw tightened.
“It was unnecessary. The entry could have been a clerical error.”
“Then why didn't you document a correction?”
“I intended to.”
“Did you change the timestamp the following morning?”
Daniel hesitated.
“The system shows my credentials were used.”
“I'm asking whether you made the change.”
His attorney intervened.
“My client does not have a complete recollection of every administrative action he took during that period. We would like to review the full audit report before answering that question.”
Foster accepted the response and moved on.
She asked about the supplemental evidence log, the exported file, and Daniel's conversation with Lena Brooks. Each question appeared to make him more uncomfortable.
When the interview concluded, Daniel stood quickly and gathered his folder.
Outside the room, he found Sloane waiting near the end of the corridor. Sloane had not been invited to the interview and was not authorized to participate in the investigation. His presence surprised Daniel.
“What are you doing here?” Daniel whispered.
“We need to talk.”
“Not here.”
“Then stop acting as though you can ignore me.”
Daniel glanced toward the administrative offices.
“Everything is under review. They have the audit logs.”
Sloane's expression hardened.
“Did you tell them about the export?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Daniel stared at him.
“You told me the original file was secure.”
“It was supposed to be.”
“Someone copied it.”
“Then we need to know who.”
Daniel shook his head.
“This is beyond a paperwork issue now.”
“It became beyond that when you attacked Mitchell.”
The words struck harder than Daniel expected.
“You think I planned that?”
“I think you lost control at exactly the wrong moment.”
Daniel lowered his voice further.
“What happens if they connect the export to the changes?”
Sloane looked toward the staircase.
“Do not contact me again until your attorney has reviewed everything.”
“You're abandoning me?”
“I'm telling you not to make another foolish decision.”
Sloane walked away.
Daniel remained in the corridor, his hands trembling slightly. He wanted to call after him, to demand an explanation, but a uniformed officer approached from the opposite direction.
“Officer Mercer? Captain Foster needs you to confirm receipt of the administrative-leave notice.”
Daniel accepted the document.
The officer waited until he signed.
“Thank you, sir.”
The young man used the same respectful tone he had always used with Daniel. Yet Daniel sensed that something had changed. The respect no longer came with unquestioned trust.
Across the building, Andre sat with Lieutenant Price, reviewing the status of the investigation.
“We've identified the account associated with the timestamp change,” Price explained. “That does not automatically establish who used it or whether the change was intentional. We're examining the audit trail and the supporting records.”
Andre nodded.
“What about the export?”
“We're still tracing it.”
Andre looked through the window toward the corridor.
“Do you think Mercer is going to admit what happened?”
Price considered the question.
“I don't know. People sometimes tell the truth when they understand that the evidence will not support their story. Others become more determined to defend it.”
Andre stood.
“I hope he chooses the truth.”
“So do I.”
As Andre left the office, his phone vibrated with a message from an unknown number.
This time, the words were unmistakable.
The original file is not the only copy. Ask who had access to the records room on Tuesday night.
Andre stopped walking.
He read the message again, then forwarded it to Price without replying.
For several seconds, he stood beneath the corridor lights, listening to the distant sounds of the precinct.
Someone knew more than they had admitted.
And someone was now trying to direct the investigation toward a person who had not yet been identified.
The fight in the restroom had exposed the first crack.
Whatever lay behind it was still waiting to be uncovered.