I stared at the words.
My orange gown.
The detail no ordinary police dispatcher should have known before the traffic stop.
I stood.
Then turned toward Priya.
“Continue the independent verification. Don't authorize any new action based solely on the disputed reports.”
She nodded.
“Yes, ma'am.”
I stepped into a private office.
Called Mara.
She answered immediately.
“Vivienne.”
“What did you find?”
There was a pause.
Then she spoke.
“The county dispatch system recorded an unusual communication shortly before the sergeant stopped you.”
I held my breath.
She continued.
“The message described a Black government sedan and a woman wearing an orange evening gown.”
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I asked, “Was it an official alert?”
“Not one we've established as legitimate.”
I looked toward the wall.
Mara continued.
“It also instructed that the vehicle be delayed until after a specific time.”
I closed my eyes.
The traffic stop hadn't simply happened to occur during an emergency.
Someone appeared to have wanted me stopped.
Wanted me delayed.
And wanted the case kept away from the briefing room.
I took a slow breath.
“Can you trace the instruction?”
“We're working on the source and authorization. We need to be careful about what we conclude.”
I nodded.
“Understood.”
Then Mara said something else.
“Vivienne, there's a second reason I'm calling.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“Deputy Ortiz says she heard Devlin make a telephone call shortly before he attempted to open the briefing case.”
I stared.
“To whom?”
“She doesn't know.”
“Did she hear anything?”
Mara paused.
Then answered.
“She remembers him saying, ‘I have the woman. The orange dress. But the case is locked.’”
For a moment, I felt the floor disappear beneath me.
Not because the words were dramatic.
Because they were specific.
The orange dress.
The case.
The instruction to delay.
I thought about Devlin's expression when he first approached my window.
The way he looked at the gown before asking questions.
The contempt.
The repeated refusal to verify my identity.
And the sudden interest in the locked case.
Then I remembered something else.
When I warned him the case contained controlled federal material, he smiled.
Not with surprise.
With anticipation.
I looked toward the office door.
Mara spoke again.
“Vivienne?”
I swallowed.
“I'm here.”