“Questions are not obstruction.”
Rourke reached for her arm.
The moment his fingers touched her sleeve, a car horn sounded behind them.
A dark sedan had stopped several yards away.
A tall man climbed out.
He wore jeans and a pale blue shirt.
Nothing about him suggested authority until he spoke.
“Mason.”
Rourke froze.
The newcomer crossed the street.
“Take your hand off her.”
“Lieutenant—”
“Now.”
Rourke released Evelyn.
Lieutenant Daniel Mercer approached, looked at Evelyn, then at the hospital identification still in Rourke’s hand.
“What happened?”
Rourke began speaking quickly.
“Vehicle matched a stolen-car description. Driver became uncooperative. I was trying to verify identity and—”
Mercer looked at the Lincoln.
“Stolen vehicle was a Ford.”
“It was dark.”
The sun had not yet set.
Everyone on the street looked at the sky.
Mercer looked back at him.
“It’s not dark.”
Rourke said nothing.
The dispatcher’s voice came over the radio again.
“Lieutenant Mercer, communications has located the original vehicle. East district has one in custody.”
Mercer closed his eyes briefly.
Then he looked at Rourke.
“So the stolen vehicle was found across town.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And it isn’t this vehicle.”
“Correct.”
Mercer faced Evelyn.
“Ma’am, are you injured?”
“No.”
“Were you searched?”
“My clothing was searched.”
“Were you handcuffed?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you why he stopped you?”
“He said there was a vehicle matching my description.”
Mercer turned back.
“What was the original reason for the stop?”
Rourke’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Mercer waited.
“Traffic violation?”
“No.”
“Plate alert?”
“No.”
“Dispatch request?”
“No.”
“Then why did you activate your emergency lights?”
Rourke looked toward the street.
Toward the houses.
Toward the cameras.
Finally he said, “It looked suspicious.”
Evelyn’s voice came quietly.
“What looked suspicious?”
Nobody moved.
Rourke stared at her.
“The vehicle.”
“What about it?”
“You were driving slowly.”
“The speed limit is thirty. I was driving twenty-eight.”
“You kept looking in your mirror.”
“There was a police cruiser following me.”
Mercer’s expression darkened.
“Mason.”
“I made a judgment call.”
Evelyn looked at the lieutenant.
“No. He made a judgment. The call came afterward.”
For several seconds the only sound was water from the abandoned garden hose running into the gutter.
Then the woman with the bicycle spoke.
“I saw him before she came through.”
Mercer looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“He was parked there for maybe fifteen minutes.”
“Did you see what happened?”
“Yes.”
She pointed down the street.
“The SUV passed him. He stared at the driver, pulled out, followed her and lit her up almost immediately.”
Rourke shook his head.
“That’s not accurate.”
“I have video.”
The man across the street raised his hand.
“So do I.”
Another neighbor spoke.
“My doorbell camera faces the intersection.”
Mercer looked slowly around the street.
Five phones were visible.
Maybe more.
Then he looked at Rourke’s body camera.
“Is that recording?”
Rourke answered reluctantly.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Mercer reached for his own radio.
“Request a patrol supervisor and internal affairs investigator to my location.”
Rourke stared at him.
“Lieutenant, come on.”
Mercer ignored him.
“Also request another unit to transport Officer Rourke back to headquarters.”
“Transport?”
“You’re done for tonight.”
“You’re suspending me over this?”
“I’m removing you from field duty pending review.”
“This is ridiculous.”
Mercer’s eyes went cold.
“No. What would be ridiculous is pretending none of these cameras exist.”
Rourke looked at Evelyn.
His anger was gone now.
In its place was something more complicated.
Fear.
Calculation.
And, perhaps, the desperate hope that status might save him.
“General Carter,” he said, “I think this got out of hand.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“You still don’t understand.”
“I’m trying to apologize.”
“No. You’re trying to apologize to a general.”
Rourke blinked.
She lifted her hand and looked at the Academy ring.
For years it had reminded her of the people with whom she had served.
Young officers learning responsibility.
Pilots who trusted medical crews with their lives.
Doctors working thirty-hour shifts.
Patients who never asked the rank of the person stopping their bleeding.
She slowly removed it.
Everyone watched.
Evelyn placed the ring inside her jacket pocket.
Then she looked back at Rourke.
“Now apologize to the woman you stopped.”
Rourke’s face changed.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It is exactly what you meant.”
She took one step closer.