Sarah leaned back.
The cuffs pressed against her wrists.
She closed her eyes briefly.
Not because she was afraid.
Because she needed to think.
Her secure communications device was inside her handbag.
That device mattered.
Not because it contained documents someone could simply open.
It did not.
Without biometric authentication and rotating authorization protocols, it was nearly useless.
But its disappearance from Sarah’s possession would trigger concern eventually.
The question was when.
Her afternoon schedule included a secure call at 2:30.
It was currently 1:54.
If she missed the call, her staff would attempt contact.
If she could not be reached, they would query her device.
If local police had already placed it in evidence, the location would appear immediately.
The situation would escalate without Sarah doing anything.
She had perhaps thirty minutes before Boyd Cleary’s quiet afternoon changed permanently.
She wondered whether he deserved warning.
Then remembered his words.
Attitude package.
No.
Not yet.
The cruiser pulled away.
Oak Haven appeared exactly as Sarah expected.
One main street.
Brick storefronts.
Hardware store.
Pharmacy.
Diner.
Municipal building.
Sheriff’s office attached to a one-story county jail.
American flags hung from lampposts.
A banner announced an upcoming peach festival.
Sarah looked out the window.
People went about their day.
Nobody knew the woman passing in the back of a patrol cruiser had spent the morning reviewing continuity plans affecting thousands of government personnel.
Nobody needed to.
That was what bothered her most.
Authority should not depend on discovering someone’s résumé.
Boyd parked beside the sheriff’s office.
He opened Sarah’s door.
“Out.”
She shifted carefully.
The cuffs made balance awkward.
He grabbed her elbow.
She stood.
Toby came around the vehicle.
“Sheriff, I can process the car inventory.”
Boyd looked at him.
“I know you can.”
Toby waited.
“That means do it.”
Sarah met Toby’s eyes.
He looked away.
Inside, the booking area smelled of old coffee and disinfectant.
A ceiling fan rotated slowly.
Two holding cells sat behind reinforced glass.
A dispatcher worked behind a partition.
A middle-aged deputy looked up from paperwork.
Boyd walked Sarah toward the counter.
“Got one for disorderly, resisting, failure to comply.”
The deputy stared at Sarah.
Then at Boyd.
“What happened?”
“Traffic stop.”
The deputy’s eyebrows rose.
Sarah remained silent.
Boyd removed the cuffs.
Sarah brought her hands forward.
Red marks circled both wrists.
Toby saw them.
His expression changed.
Boyd pointed to the counter.
“Empty your pockets.”
Sarah complied.
Lip balm.
Rental keys.
Wallet.
A small folded note.
Then the matte-black communications device.
Toby recognized immediately that it was unusual.
The booking deputy did too.
Boyd picked it up.
No visible company logo.
No ordinary touchscreen.
Only a narrow biometric strip and a recessed security interface.
“What’s this?”
Sarah looked at him.
“A secure government communications device.”
Boyd chuckled.
“Of course it is.”
“It should not be handled unnecessarily.”
He turned it over in his hand.