Chapter 3: What Brenda Knew
Ryker turned away from the cell.
"Who is it?"
Brenda held the receiver against her chest.
Her eyes moved to Deputy Miller, then back to Ryker.
She lowered her voice even though there was no one else in the room.
"It's the Georgia Attorney General's office.
They're asking for the watch commander."
Miller took one step backward toward the wall.
Ryker crossed the room in four strides and took the phone.
"This is Sheriff Ryker.
I'm the watch commander."
The voice on the other end was a woman.
Calm, precise, unhurried.
"Sheriff Ryker, this is Deputy Chief Counsel Anita Forsythe from the Attorney General's office.
We've received a report that a United States Army Major General is currently being held in your facility without access to legal representation.
Can you confirm or deny that?"
"I can confirm we have a detainee—"
"I'm going to stop you there.
If that detainee is who we believe she is, you have approximately fifteen minutes to release her before this office files an emergency motion with the federal district court in Savannah.
I'd recommend you use those fifteen minutes wisely."
The line didn't go dead.
Forsythe was still there, waiting.
Ryker set the phone down on the desk without hanging up.
He stood very still.
Then he looked at Miller.
"Get her processed out."
Miller didn't move immediately.
"The charges are still—"
"I said get her processed out."
Miller left.
Brenda kept her eyes on her desk.
The open line sat there between them, breathing.
Ryker walked to the window that faced the parking lot.
Two vehicles he didn't recognize had pulled in while he was on the phone.
One was a dark sedan with government plates.
The other was a local news van.
He hadn't called anyone.
Which meant someone inside his building had.
He turned around slowly and looked at Brenda.
She was already looking at him.
"How long has that van been out there?" he asked.
"About three minutes," she said.
"Right after the second call came in."
Ryker's jaw tightened.
"Who called them?"
Brenda folded her hands on the desk.
"I wouldn't know, Sheriff."
Her voice was perfectly level.
Not nervous.
Not apologetic.
Just level.
Down the hallway, a door opened.
Miller's footsteps.
Then a second set — measured, unhurried, with the particular cadence of someone who had spent decades walking through rooms that were not built for them and had stopped adjusting her pace to prove it.
Sarah Reynolds appeared at the end of the hallway.
Her wrists were free.
Her white blouse was creased from the concrete bench.
She carried nothing because they had taken everything — her phone, her keys, her ID — and none of it had been returned yet.
She stopped in the middle of the room and looked at Ryker directly.
He opened his mouth.
"Your belongings," he said.
"We'll get your belongings."
"Yes," Sarah said.
"You will."
She didn't sit down.
She stood exactly where she was, in the center of the room, and waited.
Not impatiently.
Not with anger.
With the specific stillness of someone who has learned that stillness is its own kind of pressure.
The property box arrived two minutes later.
Sarah checked each item against the booking inventory without rushing.
Her Pentagon phone.
Her personal cell.
Her wallet.
Her aunt's address written on a folded piece of paper.
She signed nothing.
"I'll need a copy of the full booking record," she said.
"Every charge listed.
Every officer present.
Time of stop, time of booking, time of this release."
Ryker said, "That can be requested through—"
"I'm requesting it now."
The open line on Brenda's desk made a soft sound.
Forsythe, still waiting.
Brenda reached over and put the call on speaker without being asked.
"Ms.
Forsythe," Sarah said, without looking at the phone.
"This is General Reynolds.
I'm standing in the lobby.
I have not yet been provided a copy of my booking record."
Forsythe's voice came through clearly.
"Sheriff Ryker.
Please provide General Reynolds with a complete copy of her booking record before she leaves the building.
That request is now on record."
Ryker looked at Brenda.
May you like
Brenda was already printing it.
Outside, a second news van had joined the first.
