The father looked slightly surprised.
She continued.
“Dispatch already confirmed the residence.”
The officer shifted behind her.
The sergeant turned.
“What was your basis?”
The officer crossed his arms.
“Suspicious-person report.”
“Specific description?”
“Young white male.”
“Brown hair.”
“Dark hoodie.”
“Ten to fourteen.”
“Anything else?”
The officer hesitated.
The sergeant waited.
“Possible backpack.”
The father looked toward the thin blue shopping bag.
The sergeant did too.
“Backpack?”
“That may not have been confirmed.”
“Height?”
“About five feet.”
“Direction?”
“Unclear.”
“How far from original report?”
“Three blocks.”
“Time?”
The officer looked at his watch as if the answer might have changed.
“About twenty-five minutes.”
The sergeant’s expression shifted.
The father saw it.
The officer saw it too.
He immediately added:
“He started giving inconsistent answers.”
The father looked toward him.
The sergeant said:
“What answers?”
“He said his father worked.”
“Then said he was home.”
The sergeant blinked.
The officer continued.
“Said he bought the groceries but doesn’t have a job.”
The father stared in disbelief.
The sergeant’s face remained neutral.
“He’s eleven.”
The officer looked irritated.
“I know that.”
“Allowance?”
The boy whispered:
“Yes.”
The sergeant looked toward him.
“You bought the groceries with allowance?”
The boy nodded.
“Receipt?”
He pulled the crumpled receipt from his hoodie pocket.
The sergeant took it only after he held it out.
She checked the time.
Then the address printed at the top.
Convenience store.
Six blocks away.
Purchase fourteen minutes earlier.
She looked toward the officer.
“You contacted the original caller?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“I was going to.”
“When?”
“After I secured him.”
The father’s arms tightened around his son.
The sergeant said:
“Secured him for what?”
“Field identification.”
“Where was the witness waiting?”
The officer stopped.
The sergeant waited.
“No specific location yet.”
“So where were you taking the juvenile?”
“I was going to determine that.”
The father stared.
The sergeant’s expression changed only slightly, but it was enough.
“What did he do when you grabbed him?”
“He pulled away.”
The boy immediately said:
“I didn’t.”
The sergeant looked toward him.
The officer snapped:
“Yes, you did.”
The boy’s eyes filled again.
The father spoke.
“He’s eleven.”
The officer looked toward him.
“He still has to comply.”
The father’s voice became colder.
“With being pulled into a police car after telling you he lives ten feet away?”
The sergeant held up one hand.
“Everyone stop.”
Silence.
She looked toward the boy.
“Did you try to run?”
“No.”
“Did you hit him?”