The woman smiled apologetically.
“He thinks everybody has treats.”
Marcus scratched behind the dog’s ears.
“Smart system.”
The woman moved on.
Isaiah watched the dog disappear around the path.
“You getting another one?”
Marcus’s face changed slightly.
“Maybe.”
His old Labrador, Duke, had died six months earlier.
Marcus still kept the dog bed in his apartment.
Isaiah knew not to push.
He changed the subject.
“Mom asked if you’re bringing anyone Saturday.”
Marcus looked suspicious.
“She asked you to ask me?”
“She asked everybody.”
“That's manipulation.”
“That’s motherhood.”
Marcus leaned back.
“No.”
“No date?”
“No.”
“She’ll interpret that as permission to invite somebody.”
Marcus sighed.
“I know.”
The brothers sat quietly.
Then they heard someone shouting near the parking lot.
At first neither reacted.
Parks contain shouting.
Children.
Coaches.
People calling dogs.
Then the voice became sharper.
“Hey! You two!”
Marcus glanced over his shoulder.
A uniformed police officer was walking quickly toward them.
Young.
White.
Dark hair.
Black patrol uniform.
Duty belt.
Body camera.
His left hand was extended.
Isaiah looked behind the bench.
No one.
The officer pointed.
“You two. Stay where you are.”
Marcus looked toward Isaiah.
“Us?”
Apparently.
Isaiah set his coffee beside his shoe.
He immediately began observing.
Habit.
Not defensiveness yet.
Assessment.
Young officer.
Mid-twenties.
No visible partner.
Marked patrol SUV approximately seventy yards away, emergency lights flashing.
Officer breathing hard.
Probably moved quickly from vehicle.
Right hand near duty belt.
Expression already elevated.
Isaiah did not recognize him.
Then he noticed the nameplate.
COLE.
Interesting.
Of all the parks.
Of all the shifts.
Of all the people.
Probationary Officer Evan Cole was scheduled to meet Isaiah Bennett at six o’clock the following morning.
Isaiah felt no amusement.
Only concern.
Evan stopped approximately eight feet from the bench.
“Hands where I can see them.”
Marcus stared.
His hands were already resting openly on his thighs.
Isaiah’s hands were around an empty paper cup.
Isaiah placed it carefully beside the bench.
Both hands visible.
“What’s going on, Officer?”
Evan looked at Marcus first.
Then Isaiah.
“Stand up.”
Marcus frowned.
“For what?”
“I said stand up.”
Isaiah watched Evan’s posture.
Shoulders rigid.
Feet wide.
Voice too loud for the distance.
This officer had already decided the interaction required compliance before establishing why.
Isaiah said calmly:
“Officer, are we being detained?”
Evan’s eyes moved toward him.
“What?”
“Are we being detained?”
“Stand up first.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
Evan took one step closer.
Marcus muttered:
“Oh, this is going great.”
Isaiah glanced at him.
“Marcus.”
His brother understood.
Stay quiet.