Kavalik folded his arms.
“There's no need to make a federal case out of a misunderstanding.”
Karen looked toward the tow truck.
“Then there should be no difficulty documenting how it happened.”
The driver glanced toward his cab.
His name was Evan Calder, and he'd been working for Blackridge Recovery for four years. He was thirty-four, had a wife and two children, and spent most of his working days recovering disabled vehicles or transporting cars for legitimate repair businesses.
But some assignments were different.
Those assignments came directly from the company's owner.
They arrived with specific vehicle descriptions, special inventory instructions, and a warning that the paperwork had already been handled.
Evan had learned not to ask too many questions.
Today he'd received a message describing a red Ducati motorcycle, its approximate location, and an instruction to arrive ready for immediate removal.
He'd accepted the assignment nearly eleven minutes before Kavalik activated his patrol vehicle's emergency lights.
That detail was now becoming a problem.
Karen looked toward him.
“Sir, have you begun attaching any equipment to my motorcycle?”
Evan shook his head quickly.
“No, ma'am.”
“Please don't.”
He glanced at Kavalik.
The sheriff's expression was furious.
Evan swallowed.
“Yes, ma'am.”
Kavalik stepped forward.
“You don't take instructions from her.”
Evan hesitated.
Karen turned toward the sheriff.
“Then issue him a lawful instruction supported by documentation. Otherwise, the vehicle remains where its owner parked it.”
Kavalik stared.
The exchange had drawn the attention of two additional residents standing near their driveways.
A teenage boy had stopped riding his bicycle.
And Lydia Chen was still filming.
The sheriff could feel the neighborhood watching him.
It infuriated him.
But he also understood that every additional threat would be recorded.
For the first time in his career, Dale Kavalik found himself unable to control an encounter simply by raising his voice.
His radio crackled.
“Briar County Unit One, state operations requests your direct contact. Please acknowledge.”
Kavalik ignored it.
The dispatcher repeated the request.
His jaw tightened.
Finally, he lifted the microphone.
“Unit One.”
“Sir, the state police duty supervisor is requesting immediate confirmation that Commissioner Ashworth-Reyes is safe and no longer detained.”
Kavalik looked toward Karen.
She stood beside the motorcycle, examining her wrists.
He pressed the radio button.
“She's fine. Routine misunderstanding. No further assistance required.”
The dispatcher paused.
“Copy. State operations has also requested preservation of the initial call record and vehicle inquiry.”
Kavalik's face changed.