"I kept thinking about whether I was saying the right thing."
"Most people do."
"I was trying not to make him angrier."
"And you were dealing with someone who controlled whether you could leave."
Naomi closed her eyes.
Janelle's voice softened.
"You don't need to turn every moment into evidence of your composure. We'll examine the recordings and the applicable law."
Naomi breathed out slowly.
"Thank you."
"One more thing."
"Yes?"
"You mentioned Leonard Price."
Naomi glanced toward the folder.
"My father has his records."
"Then I recommend we treat those separately for now. His family's permission matters, and any review should preserve the provenance of the documents."
"I agree."
"Good. I can help connect the family with independent counsel if they want assistance."
Naomi looked toward Isaiah.
"That would be useful."
They arranged an appointment.
Then Naomi ended the call.
For the first time since the roadside stop, she felt less pressure to solve everything herself.
The following afternoon, Naomi visited Leonard Price's daughter.
Her name was Tessa.
She lived in a modest white house near the edge of town, with a small vegetable garden beside the front steps.
At forty-six, Tessa was a Black American woman with warm brown skin, short natural curls, and a serious expression that softened when she smiled.
She worked as a home-health aide.
She had spent much of the previous year helping care for her father.
When Naomi and Isaiah arrived, Tessa opened the door.
"Chief Brooks."
Isaiah smiled.
"How are you, sweetheart?"
She embraced him.
"Doing all right."
Then she turned toward Naomi.
"You must be Naomi."
Naomi shook her hand.
"Yes, ma'am."
Tessa laughed.
"Don't 'ma'am' me. I'm not that old."
Naomi smiled.
They entered the living room.
Photographs covered a wooden shelf near the television.
Leonard in his Army uniform.
Leonard holding a fishing rod.
Leonard standing beside a bicycle he had repaired.
Leonard with two grandchildren at a barbecue.
Tessa noticed Naomi looking.
"He loved that picture."
Naomi pointed toward the bicycle.
"He repaired those for neighborhood kids?"
"For years."
Tessa smiled sadly.
"He'd find broken ones by the road, fix them up, and give them away."
Isaiah nodded.
"That man couldn't pass a bicycle without inspecting the brakes."
They laughed.
Then Tessa led them to the kitchen.