Several people near the gas pumps began filming. One man shouted, "What did she do?" Harland raised the bag so the cameras could see it. "Drug possession." Simone watched strangers' faces change. Concern became suspicion. A woman who had been recording lowered her phone and whispered something to her husband.
That shift hurt more than the handcuffs. People believed the uniform before they knew the facts. Harland took Simone's phone and placed it in an evidence bag. Then he called for a tow truck from Lyle Recovery, a company Simone recognized from the federal investigation. The company had received nearly every police seizure contract in Grey Haven for the past four years.
As the tow operator lifted her motorcycle, Simone felt an unexpected ache in her chest. The bike had once belonged to her father. Elias Avery had spent 26 years as a police officer. He had taught Simone to ride in an empty church parking lot when she was 17. Years later, after he died, she found the motorcycle beneath a tarp in his garage and rebuilt it piece by piece.
Her father had also died under a cloud of suspicion. Near the end of his career, Elias had refused to alter a report after another officer used excessive force during an arrest. Evidence later vanished from the property room and the blame fell on him. He lost his badge before the truth could be established. Simone became a judge partly because of what happened to him.
She wanted to believe that law properly applied could repair the damage caused by people who abused it. Now a police officer was using the same system to destroy her. At the Grey Haven Police Department, a desk sergeant entered Simone's information into the booking system. He stared at the screen. Then he looked at her.
"Judge Avery." The room became silent. Harland moved behind the desk and read the screen for himself. United States District Judge Simone Avery. His face lost color. Caleb took one step backward.
Simone watched the recognition spread through the room. She expected someone to remove the cuffs. Instead, Sergeant Wade Crowell emerged from a glass office at the end of the corridor. Crowell was broad, silver-haired, and calm in the way experienced men often appeared when they had spent years teaching others to fear them. "Simone recognized him immediately from surveillance photographs attached to the sealed files." He approached slowly.
"So, you're Judge Avery," he said. "Yes." Crowell looked toward Harland, then toward the bag of powder on the booking desk. Where was it found? Under the rear seat, Harland replied. Crowell studied Simone.
"Interesting." He did not sound surprised. He sounded as if he had discovered a new problem that needed to be contained. Simone said, "I want an attorney. You'll get one. I also want the bag sealed in my presence." Crowell smiled.
"You don't run this station." "No," Simone said. "But the Constitution still applies inside it." The smile left his face. Crowell ordered an officer to place Simone in an interview room. He confiscated her phone and told Harland to prepare an additional report stating that Simone had resisted arrest. Caleb stared at him.
"She didn't resist." Crowell turned. "What did you say?" Caleb lowered his eyes. "Nothing, Sergeant." Inside the interview room, Simone tried to control her breathing. She knew what Crowell was doing. A drug charge could be challenged.