She gathered the front of her olive-gold skirt, carefully freeing it from the Lexus bumper.
One long sheer glove had been torn near the wrist.
The dress's sculptural satin folds were wrinkled where they'd been pressed against the car.
She looked down.
For one brief moment, the sight of the damaged gown nearly brought her to tears.
Imani had helped her choose it.
Her daughter had told her she looked beautiful.
Now it was creased, scuffed, and stretched from an encounter that should never have become violent.
She closed her eyes.
Then lifted her head.
Walter Harris approached from the sidewalk after Brooks acknowledged him.
He remained several feet away.
"Chief Carter?"
Naomi turned.
Walter's expression was filled with concern.
"Are you all right?"
She tried to smile.
"I will be."
His eyes moved toward her wrists.
For a moment, he looked deeply upset.
"I kept telling him who you were."
Naomi nodded.
"I heard you."
Walter swallowed.
"I was worried something terrible was going to happen."
She looked toward the phone in his hand.
"Did you record the encounter?"
He nodded.
"From the moment I came outside."
Naomi took a slow breath.
"Please preserve the original video. Don't edit it."
Walter nodded immediately.
"Of course."
She looked toward Brooks.
"We need his statement."
The deputy agreed.
Then Naomi turned back toward Walter.
"Thank you for speaking up."
His eyes filled.
He shook his head.
"You'd have done the same for me."
For several seconds, Naomi couldn't answer.
Then she nodded.
"Yes."
The two stood silently.
Behind them, the afternoon sun reflected off the Lexus.
The police cruiser remained along the curb.
And Grant stood near his partner, staring at the scene with a growing realization that the facts he'd ignored were now being examined by people who wouldn't accept his assumptions as evidence.
Reeves looked as though he might be sick.
He'd entered the department because he wanted to help people.
He'd believed his supervisors would guide him when situations became complicated.
Now he was standing in a driveway where his sergeant had used force against the police chief after multiple people identified her.
He kept replaying the moments before the handcuffs.
He'd noticed the driver's license.
He'd seen the identification case.
He'd heard the neighbor.
And he'd asked Grant to verify.
But when the sergeant dismissed him, Reeves stopped pressing.
He told himself that a fourteen-year veteran probably understood something he didn't.
He told himself that challenging a supervisor during an active detention might make the situation more confusing.
And he told himself that he'd speak afterward if necessary.
Now he understood that afterward could be too late.
Brooks approached him.
"Officer Reeves."