He moved forward.
His hand closed around her arm.
Naomi stiffened.
"Do not pull me like that."
Grant interpreted the warning as defiance.
"Stop resisting!"
He turned her toward the Lexus.
The sudden movement caught the enormous satin skirt, forcing Naomi to adjust her footing to avoid falling.
She raised her free hand instinctively.
Grant grabbed it.
And the encounter became physical.
Reeves turned sharply when he heard Naomi gasp.
"Sergeant!"
Grant didn't respond.
He pressed her against the Lexus hood.
Naomi's body struck the warm metal with enough force to make her lose her breath.
The intricate black lace at her neckline shifted, and the long sheer gloves stretched across her arms as she tried to maintain balance.
"Stop moving!" Grant shouted.
Naomi looked toward him.
"I'm not resisting!"
He pulled her wrists behind her.
The position was painful because the structured gown and oversized skirt restricted her movement.
She tried to adjust her shoulders.
Grant interpreted the movement as another attempt to pull away.
"Quit fighting me!"
Naomi forced herself to remain still.
"You're hurting my shoulder."
He didn't loosen his grip.
Reeves stepped closer.
"Sergeant, I think we should verify the address beforeβ"
Grant turned his head.
"Get back."
The younger officer stopped.
For a moment, he looked toward Naomi.
Then toward the car.
He knew the escalation was unnecessary.
But he had been taught to follow his supervisor's directions.
He'd also been taught that officers had an obligation to intervene when force became unreasonable.
Those responsibilities collided in his mind.
And he hesitated at the very moment when he most needed to act.
Across the street, Walter Harris heard the shouting.
Walter was a retired postal supervisor who had lived on Oakridge Lane for nearly twenty years.
He knew most of his neighbors.
He'd watched Imani grow from a little girl riding a bicycle into a teenager who volunteered at the community library.
He'd helped Naomi carry furniture when she first moved in.
And he'd attended the public ceremony when she became police chief.
When Walter looked through his living-room window and saw two officers standing inside Naomi's garage, he initially assumed she'd called them for some reason.
Then he heard her shout.
He stepped outside.
The sight stopped him cold.
Naomi was bent over the hood of her Lexus.
Her expensive olive-gold gown spread across the front of the car.
A police sergeant held her arms behind her back.
The younger officer stood nearby.
Walter stared.
Then pulled out his smartphone.
He began recording.
"Officer! That's Naomi Carter!"
Grant glanced toward him.
"Stay back!"
Walter remained on the sidewalk.
"She owns the house!"
Grant pointed sharply.
"Mind your business!"