“I asked you to release a man who cooperated with your inspection. I’m identifying myself so you understand the seriousness of the mistake.”

“I know the new chief is B. Tisdale,” Burnham said. “Commander out of Detroit. I’ve read the memo.”

“Then you know my name.”

“The commander from Detroit is a man.”

Bethany blinked once. “No. I’m not.”

Candace burst into laughter. Her phone swung toward Bethany. “Neighbors, you will not believe this. The help says she’s the police chief.”

Burnham looked uncomfortable but not convinced. “Anybody can know the name in a press release. Do you have identification?”

“My license is in my bag. My department ID is at home, because this is my wedding and I left it there deliberately. Call the station. Ask for my desk sergeant.”

She handed over the license. Burnham examined it, then returned it.

“That establishes your name,” he said. “Not your office.”

“Then verify my office.”

Casey looked between them. He recognized her voice. It was the same calm voice that had welcomed him to the department and told him to keep asking questions. He could scarcely believe his senior officer was arguing with her.

“Officer Burnham,” Casey said quietly, “I think she is the chief.”

“You think?” Burnham snapped. “You’ve been here two days. I don’t need you guessing on a scene.”

Bethany’s attention shifted to Casey. “Officer Upton.”

His face colored. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You asked this morning for the Parks calendar, didn’t you?”

“I tried.”

“Keep trying. And call the desk.”

Burnham stepped between them. “No one is giving orders here without verification. Ma’am, if you continue claiming to be an officer, we may have an impersonation issue.”

Rowan, standing beside Bethany, felt his temper rising. “You are threatening to arrest the new police chief for saying she’s the police chief. How does that sound to you?”

“It sounds like someone needs to stop interfering,” Burnham said.

Bethany raised one hand toward Rowan. He fell silent.

“You need to check, Officer,” she told Burnham. “Not guess. Not assume. Check.”

For the first time she felt truly tired. She had imagined revealing her position would settle a question of identity. Instead it had exposed how far the officer was prepared to go rather than admit he might be wrong.

Chapter 20: The Calls That Failed

The desk line rang while the station’s only receptionist was helping a resident who had come in to file a report about a stolen bicycle. A second ring transferred to the recorded after-hours greeting. Bethany knew that system. She had asked for it to be repaired during her first week, but the replacement had not yet been installed.

Burnham dialed and held the phone away from his ear as if the recorded voice itself were an insult.

“Nobody’s there,” he said.

“Try dispatch,” Bethany replied. “Ask them to reach the duty supervisor.”

“I know how to contact my own department.”

“Then do it.”

The phone rang again. This time a desk sergeant answered briefly, but the line dropped as Burnham turned toward Candace to quiet her questions. When it rang back, he was already telling Rowan to move away. He dismissed the callback as a wrong number, never realizing that the station was trying to return the call he had requested.

Casey heard the ring. “Sir, that’s our desk. It’s coming back on the same number.”

“I said I’ll handle it.”

The body camera was recording. Casey knew it. Burnham knew it. Yet the senior officer continued to act as though each challenge were a personal affront rather than information he needed.

Candace approached Bethany, phone pointed at the dress.

“Let’s be reasonable,” she said brightly. “You were carrying chairs in a sweatsuit. Nobody here knew who you were.”