“Two.”
“Were the reasons documented?”
“One says ‘administrative necessity.’ The other field is blank.”
Shaw stared at the screen.
“Get me the original authorization logs.”
The analyst began searching.
After several minutes, a new record appeared.
The first exception had been authorized by Harris.
The second had been authorized through a senior administrative account.
The account's owner was Deputy Chief Alan Pierce.
Helen looked at Shaw.
“That's a different level of the department.”
“Yes.”
“Do we have evidence that Pierce knew what the cases involved?”
“Not yet.”
Shaw stood.
“Then we need to interview him.”
Helen lowered her voice.
“If this reaches the deputy chief, the department will argue that the review has become political.”
“Then we will show them the records.”
Shaw gathered the documents.
She was not interested in making a dramatic accusation.
She was interested in finding out why complaints had been redirected, why evidence entries had changed, and why investigators' recommendations had been rewritten.
But the pattern was no longer confined to one officer.
It was moving upward.
At the end of the day, Shaw called Danielle.
“We've found inconsistencies in several North District complaint records. Some involve evidence logs. Others involve changes to investigative recommendations and closure categories.”
“How many?”
“We have examined four of the eleven. Three show irregularities requiring further investigation.”
“Do they all involve Harris?”
“He approved all three closures. In one case, a separate exception was authorized through Deputy Chief Pierce's account.”
Danielle remained silent for a moment.
“Do we know whether Pierce was involved?”
“No. His account was used. We have not established who operated it or whether he personally authorized the action.”
“Then don't imply that he did.”
“I won't.”
“Can we confirm whether the records were altered after the original complaints were submitted?”
“Yes.”
“Then preserve the original versions and document every difference.”
“Already underway.”
Danielle looked at the handwritten questions on her desk.
Who created the alert?
Who authorized the arrest?
Where did the missing evidence go?
Who decided the original complaints were closed?
The answers were beginning to overlap.
“Eleanor,” she said, “I want you to follow the records wherever they lead. Even if they lead to people who were appointed by me.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Because the city does not need an investigation that protects my administration. It needs one that protects the public.”
After the call, Danielle sat back.
For years, she had believed that reform required patience, transparency, and the willingness to confront uncomfortable facts.
Now she was discovering how much damage could accumulate when people treated small administrative decisions as harmless.
A missing signature.
An unexplained category change.
A witness who was never contacted.
A recommendation rewritten after submission.
Each item could be dismissed in isolation.
Together, they formed a wall between the public and the truth.
And someone had spent time maintaining that wall.
Chapter 20: The Second Arrest
At 6:12 p.m. on Thursday, Andre Wallace called Marcus Reed.
His voice was tense.
“Someone was outside my house.”
Marcus stood from his desk.
“What do you mean?”
“A car parked across the street. The driver sat there for about twenty minutes. When I stepped outside, he drove away.”
“Did you recognize the driver?”
“No.”
“Did the person approach you?”
“No. But this morning, I received a call from someone who said they were checking on the status of my old complaint.”
“Did they identify themselves?”
“They said they were from the police department.”
“Did they give you a name?”
“Peter Lang.”
Marcus felt a chill.
“Did you speak to him?”
“He asked whether I had given the mayor's office any documents. I told him I didn't want to discuss the matter over the phone.”
“What did he say?”
“He said I should be careful about making accusations I couldn't prove.”
Marcus closed his office door.
“Did he threaten you?”
“Not directly. He said I could make things difficult for myself if I kept spreading stories.”
“Did you record the call?”
“No.”
“Did he leave a number?”
“Yes. I still have it.”
“Send it to me. Don't delete anything, and don't contact him again.”
Wallace's breathing was uneven.
“Marcus, I don't want to be involved in some big political fight.”
“You're not responsible for the investigation. You reported a complaint and provided information. That's all.”
“What if someone comes back?”
“Call emergency services if you believe you're in immediate danger. I'll also notify the independent investigator so the contact can be documented.”
After the call, Marcus contacted Shaw.
She listened without interruption.
“Did Wallace authorize you to share his statement?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. I'll have my team contact him directly. We need to determine whether the call was related to the investigation and whether any official purpose was claimed.”
“Should we notify the chief?”
“Not until we preserve the relevant records. If the caller was using department resources, I want the access logs secured first.”
At 7:05 p.m., Shaw's team requested the phone records associated with Lang's department-issued device.
At 8:11 p.m., the records officer reported that Lang had accessed the Wallace file at 10:32 that morning.
At 10:48, he had opened the mayor's calendar entry for the North District meeting.
At 11:07, he had viewed the alert record connected to Cole's arrest.
Three access events.
All within two hours of the mayor's public statement.
Shaw stared at the log.
“Did Lang have authorization to access the mayor's calendar?”
“No,” the records officer said. “The calendar entry was available to administrative staff in the mayor's office, but Lang's account should not have had access.”
“How did he get it?”
“We're checking the permission history.”
“Was the permission recently changed?”
The officer nodded.
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“By whom?”
The screen displayed a user account.
ADMINISTRATIVE SERVICES — OVERRIDE 04.
Shaw felt the familiar tightening in her chest.
“Who controls that account?”
“Deputy Chief Pierce's administrative office has access.”
“Who used it?”
“The logs don't identify the individual operator.”
“Then find out.”
She called the chief.
“Chief, we have a new development. A North District case coordinator named Peter Lang accessed the Wallace file, the mayor's calendar entry, and the arrest alert after the investigation began. His account should not have had access to the calendar.”
Whitaker's voice hardened.
“Was he authorized to access the other records?”
“He had limited case access, but the timing is concerning. We also have a report that he contacted Wallace and asked whether he had provided documents to the mayor's office.”
“Did he threaten him?”
“That has not been established. The caller reportedly warned him about making accusations he couldn't prove.”
Whitaker paused.
“Do we know whether Lang sent the alert?”
“No.”
“Do we know whether he was the person outside Wallace's house?”
“No.”
“Then we should not suggest either conclusion.”
“Agreed. But I recommend that his system access be suspended pending review and that the department preserve his work communications.”
“I'll issue the order.”
After the call, Shaw turned to her team.
“Find Lang. We need to interview him before anyone else contacts him.”
At 9:34 p.m., Lang was located at his apartment.
He agreed to come to Central Station voluntarily.
When he arrived, he looked more annoyed than nervous.
“I understand you're asking about my access to certain records,” he said.
Shaw nodded.
“We are.”
“I work in case coordination. I have access to a lot of files.”
“Your account accessed the Wallace complaint at 10:32 this morning. Why?”
“I was checking a case status.”
“Who requested that check?”
“No one specifically. I was reviewing open matters.”
“The Wallace complaint was closed seven months ago.”
Lang shifted in his chair.
“I was checking whether it had been reopened.”
“Why?”
“Because the mayor was reviewing North District complaints.”
“Who told you that?”
“I heard it through the office.”
“Who?”
“I don't remember.”
Shaw opened a folder.
“Your account also accessed the mayor's calendar entry for her meeting with Lieutenant Harris. Why?”
“I don't recall doing that.”
“The access log records your account.”
“Someone else could have used my terminal.”
“Was your account shared?”
“No.”
“Was your password shared?”
“No.”
“Then why do you think someone else used your account?”
Lang looked at the folder.
“I don't know.”
Shaw slid a printed record across the table.
“Did you call Andre Wallace yesterday?”
“No.”
“His phone record indicates a call from a department-issued number associated with your device.”
“I may have called him.”
“You just said you did not.”
“I don't remember.”
“Did you ask him whether he had provided documents to the mayor's office?”
Lang's jaw tightened.
“I might have asked whether the complaint was being reviewed.”
“Did you tell him to be careful about making accusations?”
“I told him to stick to facts.”
“Did you tell him he could make things difficult for himself?”
“No.”
Shaw let the silence settle.
Then she asked, “Did you generate the alert that led to Officer Cole detaining Mayor Brooks?”
Lang looked up sharply.
“No.”
“Did you access the alert record?”
“I may have viewed it after I heard about the arrest.”
“Did you know the mayor was scheduled to meet Lieutenant Harris?”
“I knew there was a meeting.”
“Who told you?”
“I don't remember.”
Shaw closed the folder.
“Mr. Lang, we have not concluded that you created the alert or that you threatened anyone. But your access records and your contact with Mr. Wallace are relevant to an active investigation. You are required to preserve all communications and not delete or alter any related records.”