Mercer turned back to Maya. “The bike was recording.” She did not respond. “Wasn’t it?” Maya held his gaze. Mercer took another step. “Since when?” Maya answered calmly, “Before you touched the saddlebag.” Mercer stopped. Boone looked from her to the Harley. Maya continued, “Before you struck the engine case. Before you called the identification damaged. Before you broke the headlight. Before you lowered the value.” Mercer’s face changed. He looked back at the motorcycle. Every statement he had made at the roadside was now a problem. Every sound had a time. Every claim had an order. He had waited until Noah confirmed the identification was valid. He had struck the engine case. Then he had called the number altered. He had damaged the headlight and tank. Then he had described the condition as old and the value as low. Boone turned on him. “You idiot.” Mercer faced him immediately. “You told me what to do.” “I did not tell you to talk in front of a recording device.” “You told me to bring the motorcycle to Hensley. You chose the motorcycle. You approved the transfer. You damaged it. You built the process.” The towing contractor stepped away from both men and held his folder tighter. Maya remained seated. She no longer needed to ask them anything. Laura was still listening. The live feed captured every accusation. Mercer blamed Boone for the seizure rules. Boone blamed Mercer for the roadside damage. The contractor began insisting that all transfer instructions had come from county personnel. Each man was trying to separate himself from the others. Instead, they were connecting the case.
Laura looked at the warehouse address on the screen, and then at the authorization documents already prepared beside her. “Move.” The agent stood. Laura removed the headset, but kept the live audio running. Mercer looked at Maya one more time. “You planned this.” Maya shook her head. “No. I planned to document what happened.” Mercer looked toward the Harley. Maya added, “You decided the rest.”
Boone moved first. He stepped toward the towing contractor and pointed at the folder in his hands. “Put that down.” The contractor shook his head. “No.” “You work for us.” “I work for my company. You took county transfers for years, and I kept the paperwork.” Mercer looked at Boone. “You told me he could be trusted.” Boone turned on him. “You are the reason we are standing here.” Mercer answered immediately. “I did what you trained me to do.” The contractor backed toward the far desk. “Both of you stay away from me.” Boone looked toward the office where Maya was still secured to the metal fixture. “This is not helping anyone.” Maya said, “It is helping the record.” Boone ignored her. Mercer walked to the work table and pulled the revised roadside report from his jacket. “You want to talk about records? Look at this.” He opened the pages and held them up. “You removed yourself from everything.” Boone said, “I was not on the roadside.” “You approved the process.” “Prove it.” Mercer looked toward the contractor. The contractor lifted the folder slightly. “I have transfer sheets.” Boone’s face changed. “What transfer sheets?” “The ones your people told me not to enter through normal storage.” Mercer looked at Boone. “You said those were destroyed.” “I never said that.” The contractor answered, “You told me to keep county references off the private copies. You never told me to throw them away.” Boone stepped toward him again. “Give me the folder.” “No.” Mercer moved between them. “Leave him alone.” Boone stared at him. “Now you are protecting him?” “No. I am protecting anything that proves I was not running this by myself.” The contractor nodded toward Mercer. “That is exactly what I am doing.” Maya watched them without interrupting. The argument had reached the point she expected. Nobody was defending the operation anymore. Each man was preserving whatever could shift responsibility toward someone else.