“A gap in the documentation is rarely indicative of systemic failure, Commander,” Dr. Marcus said, his voice flat and precise. “Veterinary record-keeping during the administrative transition five years ago was notoriously fragmented.”
“The intake sheet is gone from the physical binder, Marcus,” I said, leaning against his steel filing cabinet. “The dog has a three-inch surgical scar on his left shoulder that is not listed in his enlistment physical.”
“A superficial laceration,” Dr. Marcus said, slipping his glasses back over his ears. “It was deemed irrelevant to his performance metrics. I classified it as a minor pasture injury acquired during his initial breeding phase.”
“These files do not match the standard veterinary protocols,” I said.
“The department was restructuring,” he said, closing the drawer of his desk with his knee. “An oversight occurred. I will locate the digital duplicate when the quarterly audit concludes.”
“I need to know who signed the authorization to transfer Delta five years ago,” I said.
“The authorization is a matter of municipal record,” Dr. Marcus said, shifting a stack of manila folders to the side. “I am sure the clerk can find it, provided you have the proper requisition form.”
He picked up a black pen and began filling out a diagnostic chart, ending the conversation without looking up.
The sun had burned through the low clouds by early afternoon, leaving the asphalt of the station lot hot and sticky.
Gerald had his rugged laptop balanced on the hood of my patrol car, the screen reflecting the blue sky.
