Someone without a powerful father.
She looked toward Marcus.
He was answering Russell's procedural questions.
Aaliyah called:
“Dad.”
He excused himself and approached.
Stopped two feet away.
“You okay?”
“No.”
His face changed.
Not the physical answer he expected.
Aaliyah continued:
“People keep saying he hit the wrong woman.”
Marcus looked toward the crowd.
“I heard.”
“I hate it.”
“So do I.”
She looked at him.
“If everybody makes this about you—”
“They won't.”
“They already are.”
Marcus stepped closer.
Still did not touch her.
“This becomes about procedure.”
“Evidence.”
“His history.”
“Your identity enters only where relevant.”
Aaliyah looked down at her arm.
“Would anybody care this much if I weren't your daughter?”
Marcus did not answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Aaliyah looked away.
He said quietly:
“Maybe not.”
The honesty hurt.
Marcus continued:
“That is the part we have to confront.”
She looked back.
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
“Not as my father.”
“As director?”
Marcus shook his head.
“Neither.”
He nodded toward Deputy Director Hargrove's approaching vehicle.
“As the person who has enough sense to get out of the investigation.”
Aaliyah smiled faintly.
“Good.”
Then she allowed him to hug her.
Only briefly.
Hospital imaging confirmed deep bruising and soft-tissue injury.
No fracture.
Aaliyah went home that evening with her arm wrapped.
Her mother took one look and began crying.
Then cursing.
Then crying again.
Marcus stood in the kitchen absorbing all of it.
Aaliyah's mother pointed at him.
“You let that man walk away?”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Denise.”
“Don't Denise me.”
“He is under administrative suspension.”
“Suspension?”
“Pending investigation.”
“He hit our daughter.”
“And if I personally ordered him fired tonight, his attorney would spend the next year arguing I corrupted the process.”
Denise stared.
Marcus continued:
“I want the case strong.”
“I want every witness protected.”
“I want whatever result comes to survive appeal.”
Denise's anger did not disappear.
It redirected.
“That better be true.”
“It is.”
Aaliyah sat at the kitchen table.
Tomatoes sat in a bowl nearby.
Different tomatoes.
Her mother had gone out and purchased replacements after the hospital.
For some reason that nearly made Aaliyah cry.
Denise placed food in front of her.
“You need to eat.”
“I'm not hungry.”
“You got hit by a police baton.”
“That doesn't increase appetite.”
“In this house it does.”
Marcus smiled.
Wrong move.
Denise turned.
“You.”
He stopped smiling.
Aaliyah laughed.
Pain pulled through her arm.
She winced.
Both parents moved instantly.
“I'm okay.”
They stopped.
Aaliyah looked between them.
“Sit.”
Marcus sat.
Denise remained standing.
Aaliyah pointed.
“You too.”
Her mother sat reluctantly.
Aaliyah took a breath.
“I need both of you to promise something.”
Denise frowned.
“What?”
“No television interviews.”
Marcus nodded immediately.
Denise looked less convinced.
“Mom.”
“Fine.”
“No social media.”
“I don't use—”
“No commenting on Aunt Renee's Facebook posts either.”