"You thought what?"
Miller swallowed.
Jonathan's voice remained calm.
"That I didn't belong here?"
Miller said nothing.
Whitmore stepped forward.
"Chief, I take full responsibility. The officer is new. He's still learning."
Jonathan looked at him.
"He's new?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then why was he acting under your direct supervision?"
Whitmore's expression shifted.
"Because I'm his commanding sergeant."
"Exactly."
Jonathan turned toward Rebecca.
"Officer Lawson?"
She straightened immediately.
"Yes, Chief."
"Did you witness what happened?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you see me provide identification?"
"Yes."
"Did you see Sergeant Whitmore kick my briefcase?"
Rebecca hesitated.
Whitmore gave her a sharp look.
Jonathan noticed.
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
"Officer Lawson, I want an honest answer. Not a convenient one."
Rebecca looked directly at him.
"Yes, Chief. I saw everything."
Whitmore's jaw tightened.
"Be careful what you're saying."
Jonathan slowly turned toward him.
"Sergeant, I would strongly advise you not to interfere with a witness."
Whitmore stepped back.
That was the moment everyone in the lobby understood something.
The situation had changed completely.
The man they had treated like a criminal was now the person who could investigate every officer involved.
But Jonathan had no intention of simply removing the handcuffs and walking into his office.
Not yet.
He wanted to know why this had happened.
And he had a suspicion that the answer would be far worse than an arrogant sergeant making a mistake.
1. THE FIRST ORDER
"Officer Miller," Jonathan said.
"Yes, Chief?"
"Unlock the handcuffs."
Miller immediately reached for the keys.
His hands were shaking so badly that he struggled to find the correct one.
The cuffs finally opened.
Jonathan brought his hands forward and rubbed his wrists.
A red mark had formed around his right wrist.
Whitmore watched nervously.
"Chief, would you like me to arrange for medical assistance?"
"No."
"Perhaps we could move to my office and discuss this privately."
Jonathan looked around the lobby.
"Privately?"
"Yes, sir. Away from all this."
Jonathan gave him a long, unreadable look.
"Why?"
Whitmore hesitated.
"Well, this is an unfortunate situation. There's no reason to embarrass anyone."
Jonathan glanced at Rebecca, then at the officers who had watched the incident.
"Sergeant, you didn't seem particularly concerned about embarrassment when you kicked my belongings across the floor."
Whitmore's face reddened.
"Chief, I apologize."
Jonathan didn't answer.
He bent down and began collecting the documents.
A photograph slipped from between two folders.
He picked it up.
For a brief moment, his expression changed.
The photograph showed a young woman standing beside a police cruiser. Behind her was the entrance to an old municipal building.
Jonathan stared at it.
Then he carefully placed it back inside the folder.
Whitmore noticed the photograph.
"Is that related to the incident, Chief?"
Jonathan closed the briefcase.
"Why are you asking?"
"Just trying to understand what we're dealing with."
Jonathan straightened.
"You'll understand soon enough."
He turned toward Rebecca.
"Call Captain Harris."
Rebecca reached for the telephone.
Whitmore immediately interrupted.