“County storage.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“What time?”
Mercer hesitated.
Gabriel saw Hart looking at him.
“Seven-thirty,” she said.
Gabriel checked his watch again.
Thirty-six minutes.
“Who authorized it?”
Nobody answered.
Gabriel looked at Mercer.
“Who authorized the transfer?”
Mercer exhaled.
“Deputy Chief Harlan.”
Gabriel knew that name too.
Victor Harlan.
Thirty-two years in the department.
Second-highest-ranking officer.
Interim command since the former chief’s retirement.
The mayor had strongly advised Gabriel not to trust him.
No evidence.
Just instinct.
Gabriel had told the mayor he did not make personnel decisions on instinct.
Now he wondered.
“Where is Deputy Chief Harlan?”
Mercer glanced at the clock.
“On his way.”
Gabriel slipped his phone into his pocket.
“Call him.”
Mercer did not move.
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
Mercer took out his phone.
Hart spoke.
“Chief.”
Gabriel turned.
Her expression had changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not the embarrassment Mercer was feeling.
Something deeper.
“What?”
She looked at Mercer.
Then at Gabriel.
“We should talk somewhere else.”
Mercer snapped.
“Melissa.”
Hart’s eyes hardened.
“I’ve been quiet long enough.”
Mercer took a step toward her.
“You need to think very carefully.”
Gabriel moved between them.
“Lieutenant.”
Mercer stopped.
Gabriel looked at Hart.
“Talk.”
Hart swallowed.
“The impound lot has been wrong for months.”
“How?”
“Vehicles disappear.”
Mercer closed his eyes.
Gabriel said nothing.
Hart continued.
“Not major evidence. Usually civil seizures. Drug forfeiture. Recovered cars with no insurance claim. Sometimes property nobody thinks anyone will ask about.”
Gabriel’s face hardened.
“Disappear where?”
“I don’t know.”
Mercer muttered, “This is insane.”
Hart ignored him.
“I started noticing serial numbers didn’t match final destruction records.”
“How long ago?”
“Eight months.”
“You reported it?”
“Yes.”
“To whom?”
Hart looked directly at Mercer.
Gabriel followed her gaze.
Mercer’s face became red.
“That is not what happened.”
Hart laughed once.
“No?”
“You came to me with incomplete inventory discrepancies.”
“I brought twelve VIN numbers.”
“And I told you records get entered incorrectly.”
“Then four of the same vehicles showed up at private auctions.”
Mercer said nothing.
Gabriel felt the morning change completely.
“What auctions?”
“Green County.”
“That’s eighty miles away.”
“Yes.”
“Who owns the auction company?”
Hart shook her head.
“I never found out.”
Gabriel looked at Mercer.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“That sounded quick.”
“I’m not involved in some stolen car conspiracy.”
Gabriel held his gaze.
“I didn’t accuse you of one.”
Mercer stopped talking.
The radio cracked.
“South Precinct, be advised Mayor Dalton is five minutes out.”
Gabriel turned toward Hart.
“Where are the transfer documents for those three vehicles?”
“Probably property office.”
“Take me.”
Mercer stepped forward.
“Chief, Mayor Dalton—”
“Can wait.”
“He is the mayor.”
“And those are potentially stolen city assets.”
Gabriel walked out.
Hart followed.
After two seconds, so did Mercer.
The property office was on the basement level.
By 7:02, the entire station knew who Gabriel was.
Officers stood straighter as he passed.
Some stared.
Some quickly looked away.
Gabriel hated the difference.
Thirty minutes earlier, nobody cared that he had been pressed against a patrol car.
Now doors opened before he reached them.
“Morning, Chief.”
“Good morning, sir.”
“Welcome, Chief.”
The respect felt almost insulting.
Not because he did not value courtesy.
Because he now knew how conditional it was.
They reached the basement.
Hart unlocked the property office.
A civilian clerk named Denise sat behind a desk eating yogurt.
She looked up.
Saw Gabriel.
Nearly dropped the spoon.
“Chief Lawson.”
“Morning.”
Hart moved toward a row of filing cabinets.
Gabriel stopped her.
“Digital system first.”
Denise nodded rapidly.
“Yes, sir.”
She opened the inventory database.
Gabriel gave her the three vehicle descriptions.
The records appeared.
Black Ford F-150.
White Transit van.
Gray Chevrolet Malibu.
All three had been seized within the past two months.
All three showed the same disposition code.
AUTHORIZED EXTERNAL TRANSFER—07:30 MONDAY.
Gabriel leaned closer.
“To what facility?”
Denise clicked.
Nothing.
“No destination?”
She frowned.
“There should be.”
“Who entered the transfer?”
Another click.
Denise froze.
Gabriel saw Mercer move slightly behind him.
“Whose credentials?”
Denise looked at the screen.
“Lieutenant Mercer.”
Nobody spoke.
Mercer stepped forward.
“That’s impossible.”
Denise turned the monitor.
His employee number was clearly displayed.
Mercer shook his head.
“No.”
Hart folded her arms.
Mercer looked at Gabriel.
“I did not enter that.”
“When were you last logged in?”
“Friday afternoon.”
“Did you log out?”
“Yes.”
“Who has access to your credentials?”
“Nobody.”
Gabriel watched his face.
Mercer’s fear looked genuine now.
Interesting.
He had expected defensiveness.
Instead he saw confusion.
Gabriel turned to Denise.
“Print it.”
She did.
“Now check edit history.”
Denise typed.
A list appeared.
The disposition had been changed at 11:43 Sunday night.
“Camera footage in this office?”
Hart shook her head.
“Hallway only.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Preserve it.”
Then they heard footsteps coming quickly down the stairs.
Deputy Chief Victor Harlan entered.
He was sixty, thick through the chest, with white hair and a face built for campaign posters.
He saw Gabriel.
Smiled.
“Chief Lawson.”
Gabriel looked at him.
Harlan extended his hand.
Gabriel did not take it.
Harlan’s smile remained.
“I hear we had a little confusion this morning.”
Mercer looked down.
Gabriel replied.
“I was arrested.”
Harlan laughed lightly.
“Hell of an introduction.”
Gabriel said nothing.
The laugh died.
Harlan looked at the computer screen.
“What’s this?”
“Three seized vehicles scheduled for unauthorized transfer.”
Harlan’s expression barely moved.
“Unauthorized?”
“No destination facility. Disposition changed last night using Lieutenant Mercer’s credentials.”
Harlan turned to Mercer.
“Owen.”
Mercer spread his hands.
“I didn’t do it.”
Harlan sighed.
“Then somebody used your login.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Gabriel watched Harlan.
“You authorized the transfer.”
Harlan looked at him.
“Who told you that?”
“Mercer.”
Harlan’s eyes flicked toward Mercer.
Just once.
But Gabriel noticed.
“I authorized routine movement to county storage.”
“What storage?”