He was sixteen years old, thin, with brown hair and a gray T-shirt.
His face was pale.
He was recording.
Derek saw him.
"Put that phone away!"
Evan flinched.
Marcus spoke immediately.
"He's standing on private property. Leave him alone."
The officer turned back.
"You're giving me orders again?"
"I'm asking you not to threaten a teenager."
Derek moved toward the boy.
Marcus's voice sharpened.
"Officer. Look at me."
Derek stopped.
The change in Marcus's tone seemed to surprise him.
Marcus held both hands above his shoulders.
"I'm the person you're speaking to. The boy isn't involved."
Derek stared.
Then he turned toward the teenager.
"Keep recording and I'll take that phone."
Evan lowered it slightly.
But he didn't stop.
Across the porch, behind a tall window framed by white curtains, Marcus's wife stood watching.
Her name was Renee.
She was forty-three, a pediatric physical therapist who had spent most of her career helping children recover from serious injuries.
She had seen frightened families.
She had managed medical emergencies.
She was not easily intimidated.
Yet now her right hand covered her mouth.
With her left, she was dialing a telephone number.
Marcus saw her.
For the first time that morning, genuine fear entered his expression.
Because his daughter was inside.
And the man standing in front of him was growing more unpredictable by the second.
Derek followed Marcus's gaze toward the window.
"Who's that?"
"My wife."
"Tell her to stay inside."
"She's inside."
"Then tell her to stop watching me."
Marcus looked back.
"Officer, this is our house."
Derek's grip tightened.
He stepped so close that the colorful plastic muzzle nearly touched Marcus's shirt.
"You think owning a fancy house makes you special?"
Marcus stared directly into his eyes.
"No."
"Then why are you acting like you're above the law?"
"I'm not."
Derek leaned closer.
"Then stand up."
Marcus took a slow breath.
He looked toward the police cruiser.
Then at the officer's badge.
And finally at the boy recording from the porch.
"Officer Mason," Marcus said quietly, "you should have read your morning briefing."
Derek blinked.
"What?"
"The one sent to every patrol supervisor at six-thirty."
The officer stared.
Marcus continued.
"My appointment was announced this morning."