That afternoon, Lieutenant Marcus Reed found Renee sitting alone in the conference room.
A framed photograph rested beside her folder.
It showed a younger Renee standing beside several officers in front of a city police academy.
Marcus recognized the photograph.
"That was taken in Chicago, wasn't it?"
Renee looked up.
"Yes. Twenty years ago."
Marcus sat across from her.
"You were an instructor?"
"Eventually."
"I didn't know that."
"There's a lot you don't know about me."
He smiled.
"That's probably true."
He glanced at the photograph.
"You look different."
"Twenty years will do that."
They shared a brief laugh.
Then Marcus noticed the expression on her face.
"Something bothering you?"
Renee looked at the folder.
"Deputy Chief Whitmore has filed a complaint against me."
Marcus sighed.
"I heard."
"He claims I'm abusing my authority."
"That's ridiculous."
"Perhaps. But I won't dismiss it simply because I disagree."
Marcus leaned back.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Why did you accept this assignment?"
Renee looked through the windows.
Beyond the glass, officers were walking across the parking lot.
"Because I received a call from Commissioner Wallace."
"And? What did she say?"
"She told me Westbridge needed someone who could rebuild public trust."
Marcus nodded.
"That's a difficult job."
"It is."
He studied her.
"Was there a personal reason?"
Renee was silent for a moment.
Then she opened her folder and removed an old photograph.
It showed a young Black patrol officer standing beside a police cruiser.
"His name was Michael Mitchell."
Marcus examined the picture.
"Your brother?"
"Yes."
Renee's voice softened.
"He became a police officer when he was twenty-four. He believed the badge meant something. He believed that people should be treated fairly, even when they were angry, frightened, or difficult."
"What happened to him?"
"He reported misconduct involving a senior officer."
Marcus listened.
"His report was ignored. The officer involved had powerful friends. Instead of investigating the complaint, the department transferred Michael to a less desirable assignment."
She paused.
"Six months later, he resigned."
Marcus looked down at the photograph.
"That's terrible."
"It changed the way I understood leadership."
Renee returned the photograph to the folder.
"I didn't become a captain because I wanted an office. I became one because I watched good people lose faith in the institutions they served."
Marcus nodded slowly.
"Now I understand."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
He leaned forward.
"You want people here to believe the system can work."
Renee smiled faintly.
"Exactly."
Marcus looked toward the hallway.
"Then Carter is going to be a problem."
"Maybe."
"And Whitmore?"
"Possibly."
"You're not worried?"
Renee closed the folder.
"Of course I am."
Marcus seemed surprised.
She continued.
"Leadership doesn't mean never feeling pressure. It means refusing to let pressure decide what is right."
A knock interrupted them.
Emily Brooks entered.
"Captain Mitchell?"
"Come in."
Emily held a small envelope.
"I received this at the front desk."
Renee accepted it.
There was no return address.
Inside was a handwritten note.
STOP LOOKING INTO THE OLD CASES. YOU DON'T KNOW WHO YOU'RE DEALING WITH.
Marcus stood immediately.
"What is that?"
Renee examined the handwriting.
"Someone's attempt at intimidation."
"Should we notify security?"
"Yes. Preserve the envelope and have the appropriate personnel document its delivery."
Emily looked worried.
"Captain, do you think someone here sent it?"
Renee looked at her.
"I don't know."
She placed the note inside a protective evidence sleeve.
"But I do know something."
"What?"
"People who believe the truth is harmless rarely go to this much trouble to hide it."
Emily nodded.
Renee turned to Marcus.
"I want the security footage from the reception area preserved."
"Immediately."
He left.
Renee remained at the table.
She looked once more at the note.
Then she noticed something written faintly on the reverse side.
A room number.
B-17.
She recognized it.
Room B-17 was an old storage office beneath the administrative wing.
It had been closed for nearly two years.
And according to the department's property records, it was where Chief Harlan had stored archived personnel files before his departure.
Renee carefully placed the note back into its sleeve.
Someone had just given her a location.
Whether intentionally or accidentally, she intended to find out what was inside.