“Please separate my son from this confrontation and make sure he's safe.”
She hesitated.
Then stepped forward.
“Sir, perhaps we should verify—”
Rusk turned sharply.
“Stay out of it, Price.”
Her face flushed.
I heard several guests murmuring.
A man near the outdoor bar began recording.
Another woman stood from her lounge chair, looking horrified.
I could feel the pressure of the officer's hand on my wrist.
But I wasn't thinking about my own embarrassment.
I was thinking about Noah.
His small shoulders were shaking.
Tears were running down his cheeks.
And he kept staring at the officer's gun.
I lowered my voice.
“Officer Rusk, I am going to retrieve identification from my handbag. It is on the lounge chair immediately beside me. I will move slowly, and I will keep my hand visible.”
He leaned closer.
“Don't you dare reach into that bag.”
I stopped.
“Then please allow the other officer to retrieve it.”
He gave a dismissive laugh.
“You think a fancy handbag makes you special?”
“No.”
“Then stop acting like you're somebody important.”
For several seconds, I said nothing.
Then I looked toward Graham Bellamy.
He was standing beside a resort security supervisor, whispering something into his ear.
The supervisor glanced toward the phones recording the incident.
Then started moving toward one of the guests.
I recognized what was happening.
The manager was trying to control the evidence before the confrontation was even over.
I looked back at Rusk.
“My name is Simone Carter.”
He stared.
“Congratulations.”
I continued.
“I'm thirty-four years old. This is my son, Noah. We arrived at this resort at eleven-fifteen this morning.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Are you finished?”
“Not yet.”
I looked toward my handbag.
“Inside that bag is a black leather credential wallet and a document envelope. I'm asking you to let Officer Price retrieve them.”
The blonde officer stepped forward.
“Rusk, we can check.”
He glared at her.
Then released my wrist with an angry shove.
“Fine. Get her damn identification.”
Officer Price approached the lounge chair.
She picked up the white designer handbag, carefully opened it, and looked inside.
I watched her face.
At first, she seemed relieved to be doing something procedural.
Then she found the credential wallet.
She opened it.
Her eyes widened.
“Wait.”
Rusk frowned.
“What?”
Price looked toward the gold-embossed card.
Then toward me.
Then back at the card.
“Mr. Bellamy?”
The manager turned.
“What is it?”
Her voice changed.
“I think you need to look at this.”
Bellamy sighed and approached.
The moment he saw the credential, his expression collapsed.