Miller took the document, aligned the bottom edge with the base of her iron seal, and pressed the lever down with both hands.

The metal teeth of the embosser bit into the paper with a sharp click.

“This is now a matter of state record,” she said.

She made a copy on a grey machine behind her desk and handed it to me.

The paper was still warm from the fuser.

Detective Sloan stepped out of the side hallway, her black notebook tucked under her arm.

“We need to check your vehicle before you leave the lot,” Sloan said.