She looked toward Rourke.
The sergeant had begun demanding that Malik turn around.
Her voice cracked.
"Elliot, I need to call you back."
"Victoria, don't hang up."
But she ended the call.
Then hurried toward the officer.
"Sergeant!"
Rourke turned.
"What?"
She looked toward Malik.
Then back at him.
For several seconds, she struggled to speak.
"There's been a misunderstanding."
Malik stared.
The sergeant frowned.
"What kind?"
Victoria swallowed.
"He may actually own the house."
Rourke looked toward her.
For a moment, he seemed confused.
Then he turned toward Malik.
"Why didn't you say that?"
Malik stared in disbelief.
"I've said it repeatedly."
Victoria looked toward the Ferrari.
Her hands were trembling.
Then she whispered, "Perhaps we should just let this go."
Malik slowly shook his head.
"No."
Both of them looked at him.
He took a controlled breath.
"You made a serious accusation. The sergeant shoved me and knocked my phone onto the driveway. That needs to be documented."
Victoria's face reddened.
"Surely we don't need to make this into something bigger."
Malik looked toward her.
For several seconds, he remained silent.
Then said, "You already made it bigger when you called the police."
A second patrol vehicle arrived while they were speaking.
Officer Lena Ortiz stepped out.
She was twenty-eight, with dark hair tied back and a calm, professional manner. Dispatch had sent her after receiving conflicting information about the reported vehicle theft.
Lena approached Rourke.
"Sergeant, I ran the plate."
He turned.
"And?"
She glanced toward Malik.
Then answered.
"The Ferrari is registered to him."
Rourke's expression tightened.
Lena continued.
"I also checked the available property ownership information through the appropriate records. The house is recorded in his name."
Victoria looked down.
For a moment, the sergeant seemed determined not to surrender the confrontation.
Then he said, "He was acting suspicious."
Lena glanced toward the open garage.
The driveway.
And the key fob in Malik's hand.
She looked back at Rourke.
"What specific conduct are we investigating now?"
The sergeant stared.
Malik felt a small wave of relief.
Someone was finally asking the obvious question.
Lena approached him.
"Sir, are you injured?"
He looked toward his wrist.
"It's sore. And the sergeant knocked my phone onto the concrete."
She glanced toward the Ferrari.
The damaged device was still lying beneath the front bumper.
For a moment, her expression changed.
Then she nodded.
"All right. We'll document that."
Rourke stepped closer.
"Lena, I had the situation under control."
She looked toward him.