“Why?”
Iris looked at him.
“Is there a problem, Officer?”
His expression changed immediately.
“You don’t question me.”
There it was.
Less than fifteen seconds.
Iris kept her voice neutral.
“I only asked whether there was a problem.”
“Identification.”
“Am I being detained?”
Hollister gave a short laugh.
“You from around here?”
“No.”
“I can tell.”
Iris said nothing.
Another patrol door opened.
A younger officer stepped from the passenger side.
Daniel Davis.
Twenty-six.
Three years in the department.
His personnel file was clean.
No complaints.
Good academy evaluations.
One supervisor note described him as technically capable but “occasionally hesitant in dynamic encounters.”
Davis approached more slowly.
Hollister pointed toward Iris’s backpack.
“What’s in there?”
“Personal belongings.”
“Give it to me.”
Iris looked at him.
“Do you have a legal reason to search it?”
The muscles in Hollister’s jaw moved.
Davis noticed.
Iris noticed Davis noticing.
Hollister stepped closer.
“You always this difficult?”
“I’ve been standing here for less than a minute.”
“Answer the question.”
“I don’t know what you mean by difficult.”
Hollister glanced toward several pedestrians.
People had started watching.
A man outside a hardware store leaned against the brick wall.
A woman waiting for a bus slowed her phone scrolling.
Public attention changed Hollister.
His voice grew louder.
“I asked you where you’re going.”
“I answered.”
“I asked for identification.”
“You haven’t explained why.”
“You carrying that backpack into the courthouse?”
“Yes.”
“What’s in it?”
“I answered that too.”
Hollister stepped within arm’s length.
“You know we’ve had threats against government buildings?”
Iris did not know that.
She also knew he had not mentioned a specific threat.
“When?”
“That isn’t your concern.”
“If you are investigating a particular threat, I’ll cooperate with lawful instructions.”
Hollister smiled.
Not kindly.
“Lawful instructions.”
Iris said nothing.
“You a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
Something hardened behind his eyes.
Davis shifted.
Iris caught it.
Hollister reached for the backpack strap.
Iris stepped back once.
“Do not take my property without legal justification.”
That sentence did it.
Hollister grabbed the strap.
Hard.
The canvas burned across Iris’s shoulder before slipping free.
The backpack struck the pavement.
“Sergeant.”
Davis’s voice was quiet.
Hollister ignored him.
A man across the street stopped completely.
A woman raised her phone.
The zipper on Iris’s backpack had been partially open.
A manila folder slid halfway out.
Hollister looked down.
Then at Iris.
“Stay there.”
Iris’s voice became colder.
“You have no basis to seize that.”
“I said stay there.”
Hollister put one boot on the backpack.
Iris stared at it.
Inside were protected complaint materials.
Nothing classified.
But official documents nonetheless.
“Hollister.”