Deputy Vale stood beside the chain, rain dripping off the brim of his cap.

Lena lowered her window. “State Flood Safety Bureau. I need access to Gate Seven.”

“Road’s closed, ma’am.”

“I know the road is closed. That’s why I’m here.”

He glanced at the badge clipped to her jacket, but only briefly.

“Security called about a woman trying to interfere with the station.”

“Security called before I arrived?”

“They had your vehicle description.”

Lena looked past him at the empty security car. She had been driving a white state SUV with reflective lettering, the same kind the Bureau had used for years. It was not difficult to describe. Still, something bothered her.

“Who gave them my name?”

Vale’s mouth tightened. “Step out of the vehicle.”

She did. She could have argued for another ten minutes, but the river would not stop rising while she won an argument. She held out the printed dispatch order. Vale ignored it.

“I’m acting under a false call from a private contractor,” she said. “You need to verify with dispatch.”

“I decide what needs verifying.”

Lena had grown up a Black girl in this town long before she became a state engineer. She understood how quickly a firm question could be described as defiance. She kept her hands where the deputy could see them and made herself speak slowly, even as the minutes slipped away.

He told her she was trespassing. She said the facility had been opened to her by the emergency management office. He said she could explain at the station. When she stepped closer to the chain to point out the level marker, he seized her arm.

“Don’t make this difficult.”

“Deputy, I’m not resisting. But you are keeping the person sent to assess this gate away from it.”

He pushed her against the cruiser and cuffed her.

Across the roadway, Frank Delgado arrived in an old utilities truck. Lena heard him shout her name.

Vale ordered him back.

And then the radio called for Dr. Lena Mercer.

The deputy’s face changed in the reflection of the cruiser window. Not much. Just enough.