“He matches.”
Warren looked at her.
That mattered.
She had objected.
Not strongly.
Not yet.
But she had objected.
Brennan pulled out a conference folder.
Then another.
A white dress shirt.
Laptop sleeve.
Medication bag.
His sandwich.
The wooden gavel.
He held it up.
“What’s this?”
“A paperweight.”
The officer looked at him.
“Looks like a weapon.”
Warren almost laughed.
“It weighs perhaps six ounces.”
“You carry a gavel around airports?”
“My daughter gave it to me.”
The answer irritated Brennan.
Warren could see it.
Not because it was suspicious.
Because ordinary explanations weakened the story the officer had begun constructing.
Brennan dropped the gavel onto the metal ledge.
It rolled.
Hit the floor.
Warren’s jaw tightened.
The officer removed his legal speech notes next.
Pages covered in handwriting.
Highlighted passages.
Margins filled with revisions.
He flipped through them.
“What is this?”
“Work.”
“What kind of work?”
Warren looked directly at him.
“Mine.”
Brennan dropped the pages.
Several slid onto the floor.
One folded beneath a shoe.
Warren breathed again.
Slowly.
He had spent two nights refining those notes.
That should not have mattered.
It did.
“Officer.”
Brennan looked up.
“I am asking you again what specific facts connect me to the reported theft.”
“You’re getting real argumentative.”
“I am asking questions.”
“You’re interfering with an investigation.”
“How?”
“By refusing instructions.”
“Which lawful instruction have I refused?”
That did it.
The officer stepped closer until only a few inches separated them.
“You think because you know some legal words you can stand here and challenge me?”
Warren said quietly, “I think because you are exercising state authority you should be able to explain what you are doing.”
Holloway said, “Brennan.”
He ignored her.
“Unlock your phone.”
Warren looked at him.
“No.”
“Unlock it.”
“No.”
“You want cuffs?”
Warren’s pulse quickened.
There it was.
A consequence attached not to danger.
Not to flight risk.
Not to evidence.
To disagreement.
He looked toward Holloway.
“Officer, am I under arrest?”
Before she could answer, Brennan said, “You are being detained.”
“For what offense?”
“Suspicion of theft.”
“What facts establish reasonable suspicion beyond race, general build, and dark clothing?”
Brennan’s nostrils flared.
“You can explain it downtown.”
Warren glanced toward his gate.
Boarding would begin in less than fifteen minutes.
He thought of his wife.
The Chicago conference.
His speech about institutional trust.
The irony might have been funny if he had not felt increasingly unsafe.
“May I call my wife?”
“No.”
“Am I forbidden from using my phone?”
“You’re not touching anything until we finish.”