"Three complaints were filed in the last six months."
Whitmore's expression changed.
"Those complaints were reviewed."
"By whom?"
"Internal Affairs."
"Which investigator?"
Whitmore hesitated.
"I don't remember."
Jonathan opened the folder.
"One complaint was filed by Martin Ellis. Another by a woman named Denise Carter. The third by a delivery driver who claims you threatened to have his vehicle impounded after he refused to pay an unofficial parking fine."
Whitmore shook his head.
"Those allegations were false."
"Then why were the recordings corrupted?"
"Technical problems."
"Both recordings?"
"Equipment malfunctions."
"And the third witness?"
Whitmore's jaw tightened.
"That individual had outstanding warrants."
Jonathan nodded.
"Interesting."
He looked at the documents again.
"All three complaints were closed within forty-eight hours of being submitted."
Whitmore said nothing.
Jonathan raised his eyes.
"Who authorized the closures?"
Whitmore shifted his weight.
"I believe Lieutenant Harris."
Jonathan paused.
"Lieutenant Harris?"
"Yes, sir."
"That's interesting."
Whitmore frowned.
"Why?"
"Because Lieutenant Harris retired eleven months ago."
For the first time, Whitmore looked genuinely frightened.
3. THE WOMAN FROM INTERNAL AFFAIRS
At 8:46 a.m., the front doors opened.
A woman in her early forties entered carrying a dark leather folder.
She wore a navy suit, a white blouse, and a small silver badge clipped to her belt.
Her name was Lieutenant Grace Mitchell.
She was the head of Internal Affairs for the district.
She had a reputation for being meticulous, difficult to intimidate, and almost impossible to distract.
Her eyes moved across the lobby.
She saw Jonathan.
Then she saw Whitmore.
Then she noticed the scattered documents still lying near the administrative counter.
"What happened?"
Jonathan answered.
"I was detained."
Grace looked at him.
"By whom?"
Jonathan gestured toward Whitmore.
"Sergeant Whitmore."
Grace turned.
"Daniel?"
Whitmore attempted a smile.
"Grace. Good morning."
She didn't return it.
"What happened?"
Whitmore cleared his throat.
"There was a misunderstanding involving an unidentified individual."
Jonathan raised an eyebrow.
Grace looked at the handcuffs resting on the counter.
Then at the chief.
"An unidentified individual?"
Whitmore nodded.
"We were conducting a routine security check."
Grace slowly turned toward Jonathan.
"Chief?"
Jonathan nodded.
"Lieutenant."
She looked at the screen behind Rebecca.
The personnel profile was still open.
Grace read it.
Then she looked at Whitmore again.
"Did you know who he was?"
Whitmore hesitated.
"Not initially."
"Did you verify his identification?"
"I was informed that—"
"That wasn't my question."
Whitmore fell silent.
Grace placed her folder on the counter.
"Did you verify his identification?"
"No."
"Did you order Officer Miller to handcuff him?"
Whitmore looked down.
"Yes."
"Did you search his belongings?"
"No."
"Did you kick his briefcase?"
Whitmore's face tightened.
"I was attempting to move it."
Grace stared at him.
"With your foot?"
Nobody spoke.
Grace turned toward Jonathan.
"Chief, I need to document the incident."
"Do it."
"Do you want to make a formal complaint?"
Jonathan looked at her.
"I want a complete investigation. Not a convenient report that ends with a verbal warning."
Grace nodded.