My investigative partner, Special Agent Dana Hill, answered immediately.
"Marcus?"
"Mercer's here."
She paused.
"Already?"
"Already."
"How did he take it?"
I looked toward the command office.
"Like a man who arrived expecting to control the conversation."
Dana was quiet for a moment.
Then asked, "And the ledger?"
"Still missing."
"Any leads?"
I watched Evelyn Price emerge from the property room carrying a sealed file box.
"Maybe."
I lowered my voice.
"Start with the access logs. I want to know who entered the archives between Friday afternoon and this morning."
Dana answered without hesitation.
"On it."
Then I added, "And check whether Deputy Chief Mercer's office requested any emergency access over the weekend."
There was a pause.
"You think he moved it?"
"I think he knew it was missing before anyone told him."
Dana understood.
She had worked beside me for six years.
She knew I did not make accusations lightly.
"All right," she said. "I'll follow the records."
I ended the call.
Then turned toward the property room.
Evelyn Price was watching me.
Her expression was anxious.
I approached.
"Ms. Price?"
She straightened.
"Yes?"
"Could we speak privately?"
She glanced toward the command office.
Then back at me.
For a moment, she hesitated.
Finally, she nodded.
"There's something I should have told you earlier."
Evelyn had worked in evidence control long enough to recognize the difference between a mistake and a pattern.
She knew how easily a receipt could be placed in the wrong folder.
How an officer working a long shift might forget to initial a transfer.
How an evidence technician could enter the wrong time into a computerized system.
Those things happened.
They required correction.
But the corrections were supposed to create a clearer record, not erase what happened.
During the previous eighteen months, Evelyn had noticed something troubling.
Whenever certain cases involved large amounts of seized cash, the original property totals sometimes changed after command staff became involved.
The first time, she assumed someone had entered an estimate.
The second time, she requested a recount.
The third time, she began keeping separate notes.
She was not supposed to conduct her own investigation.
She knew that.
She also understood that documenting a discrepancy was part of her job.
So she recorded dates, case numbers, and the names of employees who handled transfers.
When she reported the issues to Sergeant Keller, he told her to stop questioning sworn officers.
"You're a civilian employee," he said. "Your job is to store evidence, not investigate police work."