Ellis looked toward her notes.
“She already asked to speak privately.”
Ava sat back.
There.
Another crack.
Hannah's interview lasted nearly two hours.
When she emerged, her eyes were red.
Not from crying exactly.
From the effort of deciding to stop protecting something.
Ava spoke with her only after agents cleared it.
Hannah stood near the vending machines.
“Agent Cole.”
“Ava.”
Hannah swallowed.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“I logged the arrest.”
“You didn't make it.”
“I knew the obstruction charge didn't make sense.”
Ava said nothing.
Hannah continued:
“I've known that before.”
That mattered.
“How many times?”
Hannah looked toward the hallway.
“More than I can count.”
Ava's face remained neutral.
Hannah took a breath.
“Sometimes he tells us what charge to enter after someone is already in holding.”
“Sometimes prosecutors reject it the next morning.”
“Sometimes he changes narrative language.”
“Who types reports?”
“Deputies.”
“Who approves?”
“Sheriff.”
“Does he alter them?”
Hannah nodded slowly.
“I've seen him send them back until they say what he wants.”
Ava asked:
“Did you report that?”
Hannah laughed bitterly.
“To who?”
The question landed.
Small departments created structural problems larger organizations often ignored.
Sheriff at top.
County oversight limited.
Employees dependent on reputation.
Complaints easily personalized.
Hannah continued:
“I have two kids.”
“I need insurance.”
“I kept telling myself paperwork wasn't my problem.”
Ava nodded.
“Today?”
Hannah looked toward the booking room.
“He touched you.”
Ava waited.
Hannah said:
“He's done that before.”
The sexual comments.
The proximity.
The hand on a shoulder too long.
The private jokes.
Nothing, Hannah said, that she had personally seen become overt assault.
But enough.
Women arrested.
Women seeking reports.
Young clerks.
Words.
Implication.
Power.
Ava asked:
“Names?”
Hannah closed her eyes.
Then nodded.
“I'll give them.”
That was how investigations actually grew.
Not from cinematic reveals.
From one frightened person deciding a fact belonged on paper.
Then another.
Then another.
Within two weeks, the task force had identified twenty-seven questionable stops.
Twelve warranted deeper review.
Eight involved searches after refusal.
Five contained odor claims unsupported by discovered contraband.
Four included cash seizures.
Three women reported inappropriate comments.
Two complained about unnecessary physical contact.
One had recorded audio.
Her name was Denise Carter.
Forty-two.
Home health nurse.
Stopped at 10:30 p.m. after leaving a patient's house.
Mercer allegedly asked why “a woman dressed like that” was driving alone.
She wore scrubs.
He searched her trunk after claiming he smelled cannabis.
Found nothing.
During the stop he said:
“You'd be a lot prettier if you stopped looking so mad.”
Denise filed a complaint.
It vanished.
Not literally.
It had been categorized as “resolved through supervisor contact.”
The supervisor was Mercer.
Ava stared at the record.
A system where the accused closed his own complaint.
Elegant.