He answered, listened briefly, and looked sharply toward the woman in the champagne-colored dress.
She recognized the change in his expression.
"What is it?"
He lowered the phone.
"The foundation administrator who delivered the records at the gala just received a warning."
Her stomach tightened.
"What kind of warning?"
The investigator looked toward the chief.
"Someone sent a photograph of her entering the hotel service corridor."
For one terrible moment, the agent remembered the frightened woman in the simple black dress.
The trembling hands.
The sealed package.
The whispered warning that someone inside the police department was helping the people suspected of stealing redevelopment money.
She forced herself to remain composed.
"Is she safe?"
"She's at the prearranged location. Our team is checking on her."
The agent looked toward the black case.
Then toward the chief.
The evidence had remained secure.
The records had been preserved.
But someone knew about the transfer.
And now that person appeared to be searching for the woman who provided the documents.
The federal agent felt her earlier suspicion harden into something much more serious.
The checkpoint confrontation had not been an isolated act of arrogance.
It had created a delay.
A public scene.
An opportunity for someone inside the station to learn whether the evidence had reached federal custody.
And while everyone watched the blonde officer arguing with the beautifully dressed woman, another person had disappeared through the rear of the building.
The agent looked toward the chief.