Ryan watched him with growing unease.
He had expected the situation to end with a report he could control and a conversation with a supervisor who understood the importance of protecting the department's reputation.
Instead, an Internal Affairs investigator and a regional oversight official were standing at the scene, asking questions that went beyond the traffic stop.
The officer looked down at his hands.
They were trembling slightly.
He curled them into fists.
Then he forced them open again.
RYAN: "Sergeant, can I speak with you privately?"
Brooks finished his radio transmission before turning.
BROOKS: "What is it?"
RYAN: "I need to explain something."
BROOKS: "You can provide your account through the proper process."
RYAN: "It's important."
Brooks studied him.
BROOKS: "Then it can be documented."
Ryan glanced toward Marcus and Evelyn.
RYAN: "Not in front of them."
Evelyn closed her document case.
EVELYN: "Any substantive statement concerning the incident needs to be handled through the appropriate investigative process."
RYAN: "I'm trying to explain what happened."
MARCUS: "Then explain it accurately."
Ryan's eyes hardened.
RYAN: "You have no idea what you're stepping into."
The words came out before he could stop them.
The people around him went quiet.
Marcus held his gaze.
MARCUS: "What does that mean?"
Ryan looked away.
For a moment, it seemed as though he might say more. His lips parted, and his fingers moved nervously against the side of his uniform.
Then he shook his head.
RYAN: "Nothing."
Marcus did not press him.
He had learned that a person who nearly reveals something important often provides more information through the attempt than through an actual confession.
Ryan was afraid of something beyond the immediate consequences of the stop.
Whether that fear concerned his own conduct, someone else's involvement, or the records Evelyn had mentioned remained unclear.
But the statement had changed the nature of the encounter.
This was no longer only about what had happened beside the sedan.
It was also about what Ryan believed might happen next.
Evelyn moved closer to Marcus.
EVELYN: "We should review the records before drawing conclusions."
MARCUS: "Agreed."
EVELYN: "There is one other detail."
Marcus waited.
EVELYN: "The amendments weren't limited to recent cases. One file goes back several years."
MARCUS: "How far back?"
Evelyn opened her case again and checked the date.
EVELYN: "Almost eight years."
Marcus's face became still.
Eight years earlier, his father had been arrested during an investigation involving a missing shipment of seized property. The case had collapsed before trial, but the allegations had damaged his father's reputation and ended his career.
Marcus had never forgotten the night two officers arrived at their family home to deliver the news.
He remembered his mother standing in the doorway, trying to understand why the police would accuse a man who had spent most of his life helping people in their neighborhood.
He remembered his father refusing to argue with the officers.
And he remembered the final conversation they had before his father left for the station.
His father had told him that the truth did not always arrive quickly, but that it mattered who was willing to keep looking.
Marcus had carried those words with him ever since.
He had not joined Internal Affairs because he believed every officer was corrupt. He had joined because he knew how much damage a false accusation could do when the people responsible for investigating it decided that the simplest explanation was good enough.
Now an old file involving his father might have surfaced in a review of altered evidence records.
MARCUS: "What's the case number?"
Evelyn gave it to him.
Marcus recognized the final four digits immediately.
For a moment, the roadside seemed to recede around him. The traffic, the radio chatter, and the voices of the witnesses became distant sounds.
He forced himself to focus.
A familiar case number was not proof of wrongdoing.
An amended record was not proof of a conspiracy.
And a frightened officer was not necessarily connected to an eight-year-old case.
He would need documents, timestamps, signatures, and a chain of custody.
He would need to know who had handled the evidence, who had authorized the changes, and why the original entries had been altered.
Above all, he would need to keep his personal history from influencing the investigation.
MARCUS: "Send me the original file and the amendment history."
EVELYN: "I'll arrange access through the case system."