“That wasn’t my question.”
“No. You’re not under arrest.”
“Then I’m leaving.”
She stood.
Reddick stepped in front of her.
“Sit down.”
“You just said I’m not under arrest.”
“I said sit down.”
“And I’m asking whether I am legally required to remain here.”
The station became quieter.
Several nearby officers were listening now.
Reddick took a step closer.
“You people always do this.”
The woman frowned.
“What people?”
“People who think knowing a few legal words means they can turn everything into an argument.”
Her expression changed.
Not much.
But Ortiz noticed.
The woman was no longer merely patient.
She was evaluating him.
“You should be very careful with your next sentence, Sergeant.”
Reddick laughed.
“My next sentence?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Here’s my next sentence.”
He pointed toward the bench.
“Sit down before I put you in a cell.”
Ortiz moved slightly closer.
“Sergeant, maybe we should just check her ID.”
Reddick turned sharply.
“Did I ask for your opinion?”
“No, sir.”
“Then don’t give me one.”
The woman looked at Ortiz.
“What’s your name?”
Reddick answered for her.
“You’re not interviewing my officers.”
“I asked her name.”
“I don’t care.”
Ortiz swallowed.
“Officer Lena Ortiz.”
The woman nodded.
“Thank you, Officer Ortiz.”
Reddick’s face tightened.
“Enough.”
He took the woman’s handbag from the bench.
She reached for it.
“Please give that back.”
He pulled it away.
“Property gets inventoried.”
“I’m not under arrest.”
“Keep arguing.”
“I am requesting my property.”
Boone had returned now.
He leaned against the desk, watching.
Reddick opened the handbag.
The woman’s entire demeanor changed.
“You do not have permission to search that.”
Reddick rummaged through it anyway.
A pair of glasses.
A phone.
Keys.
A notebook.
A fountain pen.
A sealed envelope.
Boone held up the notebook.
“Maybe she’s a journalist.”
Reddick took it from him.
The woman spoke more firmly.
“Put that down.”
Boone grinned.
“Definitely a journalist.”
Reddick opened the notebook.
The woman stepped forward.
“Sergeant.”
Two officers moved instinctively toward her.
She stopped.
Reddick flipped through several pages.
His expression shifted from amusement to confusion.
The pages contained dates, badge numbers, incident references and short handwritten observations.
“What is this?”
“My notebook.”
“I can see that.”
“Then your question seems unnecessary.”
Boone laughed.
Reddick didn’t.
He turned another page.
There were more names.
More dates.
More case numbers.
He looked up.
“Why are you writing down police information?”
The woman held out her hand.
“Give it back.”
Reddick closed the notebook.
“I think we’re past that.”
“No. You’re approaching something else entirely.”
Boone stepped beside him.
“What?”
The woman looked at both men.
“A decision you’re going to wish you had made differently.”
Boone whistled.
“Was that a threat?”
“No.”
She glanced toward the station cameras.
“It was an observation.”
Reddick had heard enough.
“Put her in Holding Two.”
Ortiz looked stunned.
“On what charge?”
Reddick slowly turned his head.
“What did you say?”
“We don’t have a charge.”
“We’re detaining her.”
“For what?”
“Interference.”
“She wasn’t—”
“Ortiz.”
His voice cut through the station.
“Do you want to spend the rest of your probation directing traffic outside the stadium?”
Ortiz fell silent.
The woman looked at her.
There was no anger in her face.
Only recognition.
She had seen fear like that before.
“Don’t punish her for asking the right question,” she said.
Reddick pointed toward the hallway.
“Take her back.”
Boone reached for the woman’s arm.
She pulled it away.
“I can walk.”
“You’ll walk when I tell you.”
He grabbed her again.
This time harder.
Ortiz stared at his hand.
“Officer Boone.”
He ignored her.
The woman looked directly at him.
“Remove your hand.”
“Or what?”
“Or you’ll have to explain why it was there.”
Boone chuckled.
“To who?”
For the first time that night, the woman smiled.
It was barely a smile at all.
“That’s the interesting part.”
Holding Two was a windowless room with a metal bench bolted to the wall.
They took her coat.
They took her handbag.
They took her phone.
No one gave her a receipt.
No one explained what she was being charged with.
Thirty-five minutes later, Reddick came inside carrying the notebook.
Boone followed him.
The woman sat with her hands folded.
Reddick dropped the notebook on the table.
“I’ve got questions.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask one intelligently.”
Boone laughed.
Reddick did not.
“Who are you collecting information for?”
“No one.”