"Good."
The meeting ended.
As officers stood, Cross noticed Officer Tyler Mason approaching Bell.
Mason was twenty-seven and had been with the department for less than two years.
"Chief," Mason said quietly, "can I ask you something?"
Bell nodded.
"Is the audit connected to the Mercer Street complaint?"
Cross stopped walking.
The room seemed suddenly colder.
Bell looked at Mason.
"Which complaint?"
Mason swallowed.
"The pedestrian complaint."
Cross stepped toward them.
"What pedestrian complaint?"
Mason looked uncomfortable.
Bell intervened.
"That's enough."
Cross stared at him.
Then he walked away.
He knew exactly what Mason meant.
Six months earlier, a woman had filed a complaint against Cross after a confrontation on Mercer Street.
The woman claimed Cross had used unnecessary force during a traffic stop.
The department had investigated.
The complaint had been dismissed.
At least officially.
Cross had never worried about it.
He had witnesses.
He had a clean disciplinary record.
And Chief Bell had signed off on the report.
But as Cross returned to his desk, one thought kept repeating in his mind.
Why would a state auditor arrive six months later?
He opened the computer system.
He searched Elena Ward.
Nothing.
He searched the state office.
Nothing unusual.
Then he searched the audit authorization number printed on her paperwork.
His screen displayed:
CASE STATUS: RESTRICTED ACCESS.
Cross stared at it.
Restricted?
Why?
He tried again.
Access denied.
For the first time in years, Sergeant Daniel Cross felt something he rarely experienced.
Uncertainty.
Elena Ward spent her first two hours reviewing documents.
She didn't ask many questions.
That made people nervous.
She sat in a conference room with a laptop, three folders, and a legal pad.
Chief Bell entered at 11:30.
"How's it going?"
"Productively."
"Anything unusual?"
Elena looked up.
"That depends on what you consider unusual."
Bell smiled.
"Try me."
She turned her laptop toward him.
"I've found twelve use-of-force reports with identical phrasing."
Bell's smile disappeared.
"Identical?"
"Nearly word for word."
"That's not unusual. Officers sometimes use standard language."
"These reports were written by different officers."
Bell said nothing.
Elena continued.
"And four of them describe incidents involving Sergeant Cross."
Bell sighed.
"Daniel has been here a long time."
"Twenty-two years."
"You researched him?"
"I research everyone involved in an audit."
Bell sat down.
"What exactly are you looking for?"
"Patterns."
"Patterns of what?"
"Behavior."
The chief leaned back.
"Daniel isn't perfect."
"No one is."
"But he's served this city faithfully."
"I haven't reached a conclusion about him."
Bell studied her.
"Then what have you concluded?"
Elena closed the folder.
"That someone has been helping officers write reports."
Bell's face tightened.
"Are you accusing Sergeant Cross?"
"No."
"Then who?"
"I'm asking the question."
She stood.
"Where is the original complaint from Mercer Street?"
Bell didn't answer immediately.
"It's in records."
"I'd like to see it."
"Of course."
Elena gathered her papers.
As she left, Bell remained seated.
His hands were trembling slightly.
He looked toward the door.
Then he opened a drawer.
Inside was a thin envelope.
On the front were four words:
DO NOT RELEASE — LEGAL HOLD
Bell stared at it for a long time.
Then he locked the drawer.
That afternoon, Elena interviewed Officer Mason.
He sat across from her nervously.
"You've worked with Sergeant Cross for how long?"
"About eighteen months."
"How would you describe him?"
Mason hesitated.
"Experienced."
"That's not what I asked."
Mason looked at the table.
"Strict."
"Anything else?"
"He doesn't like being questioned."
"By civilians?"
"By anyone."
Elena wrote something down.
"Have you ever seen him use unnecessary force?"
Mason didn't answer.
"Officer Mason?"
"I've seen him get angry."
"That's not an answer."
Mason looked toward the closed door.
"Can this conversation be traced to me?"
"Yes."
He swallowed.
"Then I don't know."
Elena put her pen down.
"I won't ask you to lie."
Mason looked at her.
"Then what do you want?"
"The truth."
Silence.
Finally, Mason whispered:
"There was another complaint."
"Against Cross?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Four months ago."
"Where is it?"
"I don't know."
"Who filed it?"
Mason's eyes filled with fear.
"A woman."
"Name?"
Mason shook his head.
"I shouldn't be telling you this."
Elena leaned forward.
"Officer Mason, if a complaint disappeared from the official system, that is exactly why I'm here."
He stared at her.
Then he said:
"Ask about the basement."
The police department basement had been closed to the public for years.
It contained old evidence shelves, archived files, broken furniture, outdated computers, and boxes that nobody wanted to organize.
Elena entered with Officer Mason.
A single fluorescent light flickered overhead.
"What am I looking for?" she asked.
Mason pointed toward the far wall.
"Old complaint records."
They walked past shelves.
Box after box carried dates.
Then Mason stopped.
"Here."
Elena crouched.
There was a gap between two boxes.
Inside the gap was a plastic storage container.
It had no label.
Elena opened it.
Inside were folders.
Several were marked:
CLOSED — NO FURTHER ACTION
She opened one.