“No.”
The booking deputy looked between them.
Boyd stared at Toby.
“You want to repeat that?”
“She’s booked.”
“Her property’s here.”
“There’s no reason to search the vehicle without inventory authorization.”
“I authorized it.”
“For what?”
Boyd shoved Toby again.
Harder this time.
Toby hit the edge of the counter.
The dispatcher stood.
Sarah stepped forward instinctively.
Boyd turned and kicked the leg of the metal chair into her path.
The chair slid sideways and struck Sarah’s shin.
She stumbled.
Toby snapped.
“Stop touching her!”
Boyd looked almost pleased.
“Now you want to protect prisoners?”
“She’s not resisting.”
“She has been disrespectful since the stop.”
“That’s not illegal.”
Boyd crossed the distance between them.
“You finished?”
Toby breathed heavily.
“No.”
Boyd’s face changed.
Toby continued.
“I’m not helping you invent charges.”
The booking deputy whispered:
“Jesus.”
Boyd pointed toward the front door.
“Badge.”
Toby stared.
“What?”
“Put it on the desk.”
“You can't fire me in the middle of—”
“Badge.”
Toby looked at Sarah.
Then at his sheriff.
He removed his badge.
Placed it carefully on the counter.
Boyd smiled.
“Now get out.”
Toby stood there.
The front desk phone rang.
Everyone looked toward it.
Ordinary line.
The dispatcher answered.
“Oak Haven Sheriff’s Office.”
Sarah glanced at the wall clock.
2:14.
Sixteen minutes until the secure call.
Boyd pointed to the holding corridor.
“Put her in interview two.”
The booking deputy hesitated.
Boyd shouted:
“Now!”
Sarah walked voluntarily.
Interview Room Two was barely larger than a storage closet.
Gray walls.
Metal table.
Three chairs.
Fixed camera near the ceiling.
Boyd entered behind her carrying the evidence tray.
He placed it on the table.
Sarah sat.
He sat across from her.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
It looked almost exactly like dozens of interrogation rooms Sarah had seen over her career.
Except usually she had entered them knowing why she was there.
Boyd pushed the tray toward the center.
The secure device rested inside.
“You want to tell me what agency you work for?”
Sarah folded her hands.
“No.”
“You said government.”
“Yes.”
“Which branch?”
“I am not answering employment questions unrelated to your stated charges.”
Boyd laughed.
“You still think you control this conversation.”
“No.”
“Sure seems that way.”
Sarah watched him.
He removed his sunglasses and placed them on his head.
Blue eyes.
Small burst blood vessels around the nose.
A man accustomed to people becoming nervous when he leaned forward.
Sarah had dealt with better interrogators.
Far better.
“You know what your problem is?” Boyd asked.