“What did you discuss?”
Linda looked uncomfortable.
“Moving.”
“You knew she had recently moved here?”
“I didn’t know she owned this house.”
Danielle finally spoke.
“She asked whether I rented or purchased.”
Linda flushed.
“I ask everybody things.”
Perez rubbed the bridge of her nose.
The incident became worse with each answer.
“Okay.”
She looked toward the neighbors.
“Everyone who isn’t directly involved can go back inside.”
Most did.
The woman recording stayed on her porch.
Danielle did not ask her to stop.
Perez turned toward Danielle.
“I’m going to document this and notify professional standards.”
Mercer looked up sharply.
“Professional standards?”
Perez ignored him.
Danielle asked, “Are you initiating that because of who I am?”
Perez paused.
It was the right question.
“No.”
Danielle waited.
Perez corrected herself.
“I hope not.”
That honesty surprised Danielle.
Perez continued.
“This interaction raises questions regardless of your profession.”
Danielle nodded.
“Good.”
Mercer scoffed.
“Come on, Maria.”
Perez turned.
“Sergeant Mercer, return to your vehicle.”
“What?”
“Now.”
He stared at her.
“Are you relieving me?”
“I’m telling you to wait in the cruiser.”
Mercer looked toward Danielle.
Then Walsh.
Then Perez.
He walked away.
The cruiser door slammed.
Perez exhaled.
“I apologize.”
Danielle shook her head.
“Not yet.”
Perez frowned.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t apologize before you know what happened.”
Perez studied her.
Danielle continued.
“Review the video.”
A pause.
“Review dispatch.”
Another.
“Review computer timestamps.”
Perez nodded.
“Then decide what you’re apologizing for.”
For the first time that morning, Danielle saw relief on a police officer’s face because someone was insisting on evidence.
Perez said quietly, “Tomorrow is going to be interesting.”
Danielle looked toward the cruiser containing Mercer.
“Yes.”
Then she picked up her coffee.
It had gone cold.
At 8:06 the following morning, Frank Mercer sat in the third row of the police department’s training room and wished he were almost anywhere else.
He had barely slept.
Professional Standards had taken his body camera before noon on Saturday.
Lieutenant Perez instructed him not to discuss the incident with Officer Walsh.
The department attorney called him at six that evening.
His union representative called at seven.
At eight thirty, Deputy Chief Robert Mallory informed him that he was still required to attend Sunday’s scheduled training.
Mercer thought that was absurd.
His representative disagreed.
“If you skip it now, it looks worse.”
“How could it look worse?”
The representative had no answer.
So Mercer came.
Thirty-four officers filled the room.
Coffee.
Notebooks.
Laptops.
Low conversation.
Walsh sat in the back.
Mercer had not spoken to him since Hawthorne Ridge.
At exactly nine o’clock, the door opened.
Danielle Carter entered wearing an Army service uniform.