Miller glanced toward Ryker.

“You can talk at the station.”

The door slammed.

Through the glass, Sarah watched Ryker walk toward her rental.

He looked through the windows again.

She saw him pull the passenger-side door handle.

Locked.

He shook his head.

Then he looked toward her through the tinted rear window.

Even from thirty feet away, Sarah knew exactly what the expression meant.

He believed he had won.

She closed her eyes for two seconds.

Then began memorizing everything.

Oak Haven County Sheriff’s Office was a squat brick building set back from a road lined with pines.

Sarah noticed two exterior cameras before she was taken inside.

One over the vehicle entrance.

One above the public doorway.

Inside, another covered the booking counter.

A fourth was mounted high in the hallway leading toward the holding cells.

She noted their positions automatically.

The dispatcher behind the front desk was a woman in her fifties with graying brown hair pulled into a loose knot.

Brenda Lawson.

Her nameplate gave Sarah that much.

Brenda looked up when Sarah was brought in.

Then looked at Ryker.

“What’ve we got?”

“Disorderly. Resisting.”

Miller remained near the counter.

Brenda began typing.

Sarah’s wrists were uncuffed.

She rubbed one thumb across the red indentation around the opposite wrist.

“Name?”

“Sarah Evelyn Reynolds.”

“Address?”

Sarah answered.

“Occupation?”

There was a pause.

Ryker was standing behind Brenda, flipping through something on Miller’s clipboard.

Sarah looked directly at Brenda.

“Federal employee.”

Ryker gave a small laugh.

“What kind?”

Sarah ignored him.

Brenda glanced between them.

“Do you need an employer name?”

“Not for booking.”

Ryker said, “Put Department of Defense if she wants to act important.”

Sarah looked at him.

“I didn’t tell you my employer.”

Ryker’s smile returned.

“Rental papers did.”

So he had looked through the documents Miller had taken from her.

Sarah nodded once.

Another detail.

Brenda typed.

“Any medical conditions we need to know about?”

“No.”

“Emergency contact?”

Sarah supplied her aunt’s name but not the number from memory. The number was stored in her civilian phone.

“I need to contact counsel.”

Ryker leaned against the counter.

“You just got here.”

“I’m requesting access to an attorney.”

“You can request the moon.”

Brenda stopped typing.

Only briefly.

Then continued.

Sarah looked at her.

“I would like that request documented.”

Ryker pushed away from the counter.

“You think you’re running this booking?”

“No.”

“Then stop giving orders.”

Sarah held his gaze.

“That was a request.”

The hallway camera was behind and above his left shoulder.

She made sure she remained where it could see her face.

Ryker noticed the direction of her glance.

He turned slightly.

Looked at the camera.

Then back at Sarah.

“You like cameras?”

“I like records.”

For the first time, his expression lost its casualness completely.

He stepped closer.

“Put reckless driving on it.”

Miller looked up.

“Sheriff?”

“She crossed the center line.”

“You said disorderly.”

“I’m saying reckless now.”

Sarah’s eyes moved from Ryker to Miller.

Miller’s jaw shifted.

A hesitation.

Small.

But there.

Sarah stored that too.

Brenda said, “I need the statute code.”

Ryker recited it.

“Put her in four.”

Sarah asked, “Am I being given access to a phone?”

“Later.”

“Counsel?”

“Later.”

“When?”

Ryker pointed toward the hallway.

“When I decide you’re done making this difficult.”

Sarah looked at Brenda.

Brenda did not meet her eyes.

The concrete holding cell smelled faintly of disinfectant and old humidity.

There was a steel bench fixed to one wall.

No clock.

Sarah sat.

The door shut.

The lock clicked.

She heard footsteps retreat.

For the first time since the lights had appeared behind her, there was nothing to do.

So Sarah began reconstructing the stop from the beginning.

3:31.

Deputy Miller.

Badge number.

Center line.

3:40.

Ryker arrived.

Search demand.

No consent.

3:46.

Handcuffs.

Disorderly conduct.

Resisting.

Reckless added at booking.

Request for counsel denied.

She repeated the sequence until it settled.

Then she thought about the briefing.

Four o’clock.

Her executive officer would wait perhaps ninety seconds before calling her secure line.

Three minutes before trying the civilian number.

Five before notifying the duty desk.

Sarah leaned back against the wall.

She had built her staff to act when something broke.

They would act.

What they could not do was erase what had already happened.

And Sarah did not want them to.

Outside the cell, somewhere beyond the concrete and steel, a phone began to ring.

Part II — Five Minutes

Brenda Lawson answered on the third ring.

“Oak Haven County Sheriff’s Office.”

A man’s voice said, “This is Colonel—”

The rest of the name meant nothing to her.

What followed did.

“I’m calling from the Pentagon duty desk. I need to confirm whether Major General Sarah Reynolds is currently in your custody.”

Brenda stopped typing.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Across the room, Ryker was reading Miller’s incident sheet.

Miller stood beside the copier.

Brenda lowered her voice.

“Who are you looking for?”

“Major General Sarah Reynolds. United States Army. She was traveling through your jurisdiction this afternoon.”

Brenda looked at the booking screen.

SARAH EVELYN REYNOLDS.

Age: 48.

Employer field: FEDERAL.

Location: HOLDING CELL 4.

Her mouth went dry.

“One moment.”

The caller continued before she could place him on hold.

“Ma’am, I need you to tell me whether she is there.”

Brenda turned slowly toward Ryker.

“Sheriff.”

He kept reading.

“What?”

She covered the receiver.

“There is a colonel from the Pentagon asking to speak with Major General Sarah Reynolds.”

Silence lasted perhaps two seconds.

It felt longer.

Miller looked away from the copier.

Ryker’s face became blank.

Not frightened.

Not yet.

Confused.

“What did you say?”

Brenda repeated it.

“Pentagon. Major General Sarah Reynolds.”

Ryker stared toward the hallway.

Cell four was not visible from the desk, but the corridor leading to it was.

He looked back at Brenda.

“Give me the phone.”

She handed it over.

Ryker placed the receiver against his ear.

“Sheriff Thomas Ryker.”

The voice on the other end was composed.

“Sheriff, I’m calling regarding Major General Sarah Reynolds.”

“What’s this about?”

“It’s about the general not joining a secure briefing at sixteen hundred. Her itinerary places her in your county, and her travel profile shows contact with your office.”

Ryker’s eyes moved toward Miller.

“What do you mean, contact?”

“We traced her status through the duty system.”

Ryker said nothing.

The colonel continued.

“I’m told she has been detained.”

“She’s under arrest.”

“On what charge?”

Ryker shifted the receiver from one ear to the other.

“That’s local law enforcement business.”

“It may be. I’m asking a straightforward question.”

Ryker’s voice sharpened.

“She was stopped for reckless driving. She became disorderly and resisted.”

Miller looked at him.

Brenda saw it.

The colonel paused.

Then asked, “Has she been given access to counsel?”

Ryker’s gaze flicked toward Brenda.

“That is being handled.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Ryker’s jaw tightened.

The colonel spoke again.

“What lawful basis do you have for holding the general?”

The word general changed the room.

Not because Sarah suddenly possessed different rights.