The female agent looked toward Adams.
“Who are you?”
Adams straightened reflexively.
“Officer Grant Adams, Briar Ridge Police.”
The woman held up her credentials.
“Supervisory Special Agent Karen Holt. FBI.”
The neighborhood reacted audibly.
Adams’s face lost color.
Holt looked toward Nadia.
“What happened?”
Nadia glanced at Adams.
Then toward his body camera.
“It’s recorded.”
Holt followed her gaze.
“Good.”
Adams swallowed.
“Agent, this woman refused—”
Holt turned.
“This woman?”
He stopped.
Holt looked toward Nadia again.
“Show him.”
Nadia walked slowly toward the leather folder.
Nobody stopped her this time.
Water dripped from her sleeves onto the grass.
She bent.
Opened the folder.
Inside were closing documents.
Utility records.
A property deed.
And a black credential wallet.
She removed the wallet.
Opened it.
Federal badge.
Photographic identification.
NADIA BROOKS
SPECIAL AGENT
FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION
Adams stared.
One neighbor whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Nadia closed the wallet.
Holt’s eyes returned to Adams.
“Would you like to explain why one of my agents is standing soaked on her own front lawn?”
Adams opened his mouth.
Nothing useful came.
He looked toward Nadia.
Then the house.
Then the badge.
The same woman.
Same yard.
Same facts.
Only status had changed.
Nadia saw recognition arrive.
Not remorse yet.
Recognition.
Adams finally said:
“I didn't know who she was.”
Nadia’s expression hardened.
“That is the problem.”
The words landed harder than shouting would have.
Holt turned toward the other agents.
“Preserve every visible camera.”
One agent nodded.
“Neighbors too?”
“Ask voluntarily.”
“Bodycam?”
Holt looked toward Adams.
“Officer, do not deactivate or manipulate that camera.”
Adams stiffened.
“That footage belongs to my department.”
“And its preservation may be relevant to a federal investigation.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What federal investigation?”
The tall Latino agent looked toward Holt.
She did not answer immediately.
Nadia did.
“The one you just walked into.”
Adams stared.
The neighbors leaned closer.
Holt gave Nadia a look.
Not warning.
A reminder.
Careful.
Nadia nodded.
Then closed the folder.
Adams looked between them.
“Wait.”
“What investigation?”
Nobody answered.
A marked police SUV turned onto the street.
Then another.
Adams’s supervisor arriving.
Lieutenant Paul Renner stepped out of the first SUV.
He was in his fifties.
Heavyset.
Gray mustache.