Derek pointed.
“Stay back!”
Dad’s hands curled.
For one terrifying moment I thought he might hit him.
I spoke first.
“Dad.”
He looked at me.
“Don’t.”
“Rachel—”
“I’m okay.”
I wasn’t concerned about Derek hurting me.
I was concerned about my seventy-one-year-old father giving Derek exactly the excuse he was apparently searching for.
Derek laughed.
“Listen to her. Still giving orders.”
I turned enough to face him.
“Remove the cuff.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
His expression changed again.
Then tires crunched on gravel.
Everybody looked toward the driveway.
The black SUV appeared slowly between the trees.
Government plates.
Dark windows.
Large enough to look almost absurd beside my parents’ flower beds.
It stopped behind Derek’s patrol vehicle.
The passenger door opened.
Sergeant First Class Marcus Reed stepped out.
Full dress uniform.
Straight posture.
Red folder in his left hand.
He took three steps.
Then saw me.
More specifically, he saw the cuff.
Marcus stopped.
His expression did not dramatically change.
That was what made it worse.
Marcus was the kind of man who became quieter when furious.
He walked across the lawn.
Derek’s grip loosened.
Marcus stopped three feet away.
Then snapped to attention.
“General Carter, ma’am.”
Silence.
Absolute.
Even the children had stopped moving.
Derek stared at Marcus.
Then at me.
Then at my shoulder.
Grandma Evelyn closed her eyes.
My mother covered her mouth.
Todd whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Derek recovered first.
He laughed.
It sounded wrong.
“You called her what?”
Marcus looked at the cuff.
Then at Derek.
Then back at me.
“Ma’am, are you injured?”
“No.”
Derek released my forearm.
The cuff remained.
Marcus looked at him.
“Remove it.”
Derek straightened.
“Who are you?”
“Sergeant First Class Marcus Reed.”
Derek nodded as though relieved.
“Right. Sergeant.”
Marcus did not move.
“You're ordering a sheriff’s deputy on private property?”
“No.”
Derek smiled.
“Good.”
Marcus continued.
“I’m telling you that the person you restrained has asked you to remove the cuff.”
Derek glanced toward me.
“Rachel, tell your friend to calm down.”
Marcus’s eyes sharpened.
I said:
“Derek, remove it.”
His cheeks reddened.
“You don’t give me orders.”
Grandma Evelyn spoke from behind him.
“She outranks half the people you’ve ever met.”
Derek turned.
“What?”
Grandma pointed toward my shoulder.
“That star isn't decoration, boy.”
Derek’s face went blank.
Todd looked at me.
“You’re actually…”
“Yes.”
My mother whispered:
“Rachel.”
There were years inside the way she said my name.
Shock.
Guilt.
Pride.
Confusion.
I did not have time for any of them.
Marcus held out the red folder.