She turned back toward Derek.
"Officer, secure that object safely and keep your hands away from your firearm."
The officer slowly lowered the colorful toy.
His breathing had changed.
He looked from the woman to the vehicles.
Then toward Marcus.
"Sir, I was responding to a complaint."
The woman studied him.
"I understand."
Derek relaxed slightly.
Then she asked one question.
"Who specifically told you to come to this address?"
The officer blinked.
"Dispatch."
She opened her folder.
"Dispatch sent you to investigate an armed suspect?"
"Yes."
She glanced toward Marcus.
Then back to Derek.
"What address did they give you?"
The officer hesitated.
"Forty-eight seventeen Maple Grove Drive."
The woman looked at the folder.
Then she slowly raised her eyes.
"Officer, that's not the address in the original call."
Derek stopped breathing for a moment.
Marcus leaned forward.
"What?"
She turned toward him.
"Director, the complaint was redirected after dispatch received it."
A silence settled over the porch.
Derek looked toward his cruiser.
Marcus lowered his hands slightly.
The woman's next words came slowly.
"And the person who requested that redirection knew exactly who lived here."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
The sprinkler continued spraying across the lawn.
A newspaper page fluttered against the flowerbed.
The tiny blue-and-pink toy hung from Derek's lowered hand.
And Marcus understood something that made the entire encounter far more disturbing than a reckless officer mistaking a homeowner for a suspicious stranger.
Someone inside the police department had wanted a patrol officer to arrive at his house.
Someone had supplied his address.
Someone had known his official appointment would begin the next morning.
And someone may have been counting on an angry confrontation before Marcus could even enter his new office.
The woman in the navy suit looked toward the teenage witness.
"Is that recording still running?"
Evan nodded.
"Yes, ma'am."
She looked at the phone.
Then toward the police cruiser.
"Good."
Derek swallowed.
"Why?"
Her answer was almost a whisper.
"Because someone is going to have to explain why you were sent here."
Marcus had spent nearly twenty years questioning people who believed the truth could be made to disappear if they spoke loudly enough.