And I wasn't going to let it destroy an investigation we'd spent eleven months building.
I took a slow breath.
“I'm going to need to separate my role as a witness from the task force's decisions about this stop.”
Adrian nodded.
“Already discussed with counsel.”
I looked toward him.
He smiled faintly.
“You trained me to take that seriously.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
“Good.”
Then I looked toward the horizon.
The road carried us toward a secure field office outside the county.
And somewhere ahead of us, Nora Tate was holding the records that might finally explain why so many people had lost their cars, their savings, and their trust in the men wearing Ashford County sheriff's stars.
The secure interview location wasn't impressive.
It was a plain commercial office behind a medical services building, with neutral walls, a conference table, and a kitchenette that smelled faintly of old coffee.
Two federal agents waited near the entrance.
When I stepped inside, a woman with tired eyes rose from her chair.
Nora Tate.
She wore faded jeans, a pale-blue blouse, and a cardigan that looked slightly too large.
Her hair was pulled into an untidy knot.
She seemed older than forty-five.
Not because of her face, but because of the exhaustion in her posture.
When she saw me, she stopped.
Her eyes moved over the gold gown.
Then toward my shoulder.
For a moment, she looked horrified.
“Oh, God.”
I approached.
“Nora?”
She nodded.
“I'm sorry.”
Her voice cracked.
“I didn't know they'd actually do it.”
I stopped.
“What?”
She began crying.
“They said they'd delay you. I thought they meant some kind of paperwork problem.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
Adrian moved closer.
“Nora, who said that?”
She looked toward him.
Then toward me.
For several seconds, she couldn't speak.
Finally, she whispered, “The sheriff.”
The room became very quiet.
I pulled out a chair.
“Sit down.”
She shook her head.
“I'm sorry.”
“Nora.”
She looked toward me.
I kept my voice steady.
“You didn't put your hands on me. You didn't order the stop. And you didn't cause the choices those deputies made.”
Her eyes filled.
I gestured toward the chair.
“Please. Let's start with what you know.”
She sat.
A federal interviewer took over the formal questioning while I remained present only for the portions appropriate to my role.
That distinction mattered.
I was now a complainant and witness in the roadside incident.
I didn't want my personal experience to distort the handling of Nora's evidence.
The interviewer began by asking how Nora learned about the planned stop.