A Protected Record

Osei came in through the side door with a dark folder tucked to his chest like he didn’t want it seen. He stopped when he saw who was in the room, then kept moving because there was nowhere else to go.

Linda’s hands stayed on the keyboard. The printer behind her gave a hard whirr and spit out another page into the tray. On the counter, a vase of yellow flowers sat beside a stack of forms and a half-empty cup of pens. The air-conditioning pushed cold air across the room.

“Did you get the chain of custody log?” Linda asked.

He nodded once. “Yes, ma’am.”

Kavalik was standing too close to Linda’s desk again, one hand on his belt. “What’s in that folder?”

Osei looked at the folder, then at the floor. “Tow release. Plate hit. I brought the service sheet.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“No, sir.”

Karen stood with her hands folded in front of her, wrists red where the cuffs had been. The chair they’d offered her sat empty beside the desk. She hadn’t touched it. Her helmet sat on the counter with a smear of dust on the visor.

Kavalik pointed at Osei. “If you know something, say it.”

Osei swallowed. “I ran the plate again after the stop.”

Linda turned her head. “And?”

He opened the folder halfway, then shut it. “It flagged before I got to the registration screen.”

That got the room quiet.

Karen looked from one face to the next. No one moved. Even the phones seemed to stop ringing for a second.

“Flagged how?” Kavalik said.

Osei licked his lips. “Internal notice. Protected record.”

Kavalik’s jaw worked once. “Protected by who?”

Osei didn’t answer.

Linda pulled the keyboard a little closer. “Sheriff, I need you to step back from the monitor.”

He didn’t. “Read it out.”

Linda’s finger hovered over the keys. “I’m not reading anything out loud until I know who has access to this table.”

Karen said, “Then print it.”

Linda glanced at her, then back to the screen. “I already did.”

Another page slid into the tray.

Kavalik took one step toward the printer. “What is it?”

Osei said, “It’s a watchlist hit.”

That landed hard enough to change Kavalik’s face. “On her?”

Osei shook his head. “On the stop.”

Linda finally looked up. “On your stop, Sheriff. And on the tow authorization.”

Kavalik’s hand left his belt. “That’s not possible.”

“It is,” Linda said. “The system tagged the event the minute the plate was entered.”

Karen turned her head toward the front window. Out on the lot, sunlight lay across the parked cruisers. Somewhere beyond that, her bike was still on the tow bed, strapped down under the same bright sky.

Kavalik said, “Who set the flag?”

Linda’s mouth tightened. “That’s what I’m checking now.”

Osei shifted his weight, eyes on the folder. “Sir, I think you need to see the header.”

Linda tapped the screen once.

Kavalik leaned in.

And all the color went out of his face.