“Yeah.”
“Then let me be furious too.”
Mara smiled sadly.
“Okay.”
That night, she did not sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes she saw the bag.
Not the powder.
Numbers followed her.
08:17.
5:07.
Twenty-three minutes from first contact to Internal Affairs arrival.
Seven seconds between dispatch saying “stand by” and returning.
Four words:
Checked out under your badge.
Numbers gave shape to things feelings could not.
At 3:40 a.m., she opened her laptop.
David had told her not to work.
She ignored him.
She began a timeline.
Not for court.
For herself.
4:44 p.m. — left office.
4:58 — entered neighborhood.
5:01 — patrol vehicle first visible.
5:03 — lights activated.
5:05 — first contact.
5:12 — ordered from vehicle.
5:16 — refused search.
5:18 — phone struck.
5:19 — bag displayed.
5:20 — evidence number called.
5:21 — dispatch confirmation.
She stopped.
Looked at the list.
Then added one line.
5:18 — Officer Reed said “Sergeant, maybe we should—” and stopped.
That moment bothered her.
Because it was almost intervention.
Almost.
The next morning, Internal Affairs interviewed Reed formally.
Twenty-eight years old.
Three years on patrol.
Good evaluations.
No complaints.
Former high-school wrestling coach.
Joined law enforcement after his younger brother survived a drunk-driving crash and one officer stayed with their mother for hours.
He believed police work was service.
Then he met Sergeant Collins.
Collins was respected.
Aggressive.
Productive.
High arrests.
High contraband recovery.
Supervisors called him “proactive.”
Young officers called him relentless.
Some admired him.
Some avoided him.
Reed had been assigned under him four months earlier.
The Internal Affairs investigator asked:
“When did you first believe something was wrong?”
Reed looked at the table.
“When he asked her out of the car.”
“Why?”
“The tint explanation didn't make sense.”
“Did you say anything?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“He was my sergeant.”
“Continue.”
“When he asked for consent to search, she said no.”
“Anything illegal about that?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“He took it personally.”
“How do you know?”
“I know his tone.”
“That is subjective.”
“Yes.”
“What objective behavior?”
“He stepped closer.”
“Started saying she was making things difficult.”
“Then he told me to watch her.”
“For what?”