"People who trusted your department to protect them."
Whitmore folded his arms.
"You're making this sound much worse than it is."
"Am I?"
"Officers deal with difficult situations every day. Sometimes people don't like the way an interaction goes. That doesn't automatically mean misconduct occurred."
Victoria looked at him for several seconds.
"You're absolutely right, Sheriff. A disagreement doesn't automatically prove misconduct."
She placed another document on the counter.
"But falsifying an official report is different."
The room became noticeably quieter.
Ryan looked at the document.
Whitmore did not touch it.
"What did you just say?"
Victoria repeated herself.
"I said that falsifying an official report is different."
"That's a serious allegation."
"Yes. And I have the original report, the amended report, the body-camera footage, and the witness statements."
Whitmore's smile disappeared completely.
For the first time since she had entered the station, he seemed uncertain.
"Who exactly are you?"
Victoria did not answer immediately.
Instead, she reached into her handbag and removed a leather identification holder.
She opened it and placed it on the counter.
Whitmore looked down.
At first, he appeared confused.
Then his eyes widened.
Ryan leaned forward, trying to read the identification.
The sheriff slowly straightened his back.
The woman standing before them was not an ordinary visitor.
She was a senior federal official whose authority extended far beyond the county lines Whitmore had spent his career protecting.
And the investigation she had come to discuss was not a routine complaint.
It involved the sheriff himself.
Whitmore stared at the identification, then looked back at Victoria.
His mouth opened, but no words came out.
Victoria calmly closed the folder.
"Now, Sheriff," she said, "I believe we can begin."
And somewhere behind the reception desk, a telephone began to ring.
The telephone continued ringing.
Nobody moved to answer it.
Sheriff Daniel Whitmore stood behind the reception counter, staring at Victoria Bennett's identification as though the small card had suddenly become the most dangerous object in the building.
He had encountered federal investigators before. He had attended meetings with state officials, spoken with prosecutors, and even testified before congressional committees during his career. But he had never expected a federal official to walk directly into his station carrying evidence connected to his own department.
And certainly not without warning.
Victoria slipped her identification back into her leather holder.
"Are you going to answer that phone, Sheriff?"
Whitmore blinked.
"What?"
"The telephone. It appears someone is trying very hard to reach you."
He glanced toward the ringing device.
"Ryan, answer it."
Deputy Ryan Mitchell picked up the receiver.
"Whitmore County Sheriff's Department. Deputy Mitchell speaking."
A voice responded on the other end.
Ryan listened for several seconds. His expression gradually changed.
"Yes, sir. She's here."
He paused.
"Yes, sir. I understand."
Another pause followed.
Then Ryan slowly turned toward the sheriff.
"Sir, it's Captain Reynolds from the state police."
Whitmore frowned.
"What does he want?"
Ryan covered the receiver.
"He says he's been instructed to cooperate with the federal investigation."
Whitmore's face tightened.
"Tell him I'll call him back."
Ryan returned to the receiver.
"Captain, the sheriff says he'll—"
"Put him on speakerphone," Victoria interrupted.
Whitmore immediately raised his voice.
"Excuse me?"
Victoria did not look at him.
"Put the call on speakerphone, Deputy. This investigation requires transparency."
Whitmore stepped forward.
"This is my department. I decide how telephone calls are handled."
Victoria finally turned toward him.
"And I am conducting an investigation into allegations involving your department. I suggest you consider that before deciding what information you want hidden."
Ryan looked between them.
He had never seen anyone speak to Sheriff Whitmore that way.
More importantly, he had never seen the sheriff unable to respond.
After a moment, Ryan pressed the speakerphone button.
A man's voice filled the reception area.
"Deputy Mitchell?"
"Yes, Captain."
"This is Captain James Reynolds. Is Ms. Bennett there?"
Victoria stepped closer.
"I'm here, Captain."
"Good afternoon, Director Bennett. I apologize for the confusion. Our office received your authorization this morning. The investigative team is assembling now."
"Thank you, Captain. Has the county prosecutor been informed?"
"Yes. Prosecutor Helen Carter has been notified, and she has requested that all relevant records be preserved immediately."
Whitmore's head snapped toward the telephone.
"Preserved? What records?"
There was a brief silence.
Then Reynolds answered.
"All records relating to the incident under investigation, Sheriff. Dispatch logs, patrol reports, body-camera footage, internal communications, and personnel records."
Whitmore swallowed.
"That's unnecessary. We maintain our own records."
"I'm sure you do," Reynolds replied. "That's why we are requesting that none of them be altered, deleted, transferred, or destroyed."