“They match a heavy-duty light truck tire.”

“Caleb has those tires on his Ford,” I said.

“We know,” Harris said.

“The tread pattern is an exact match for the set your father bought him last autumn.”

He tapped his knuckles against the edge of the map.

“We can keep you safe, but we need you to put it in writing,” he said.

“I will sign whatever you need,” I said.

Harris nodded once, a brief, professional movement of his chin.