“Good.”
The line disconnected.
Higgins stared at the phone.
Isaiah looked toward the window.
No satisfaction.
Only exhaustion.
Carter turned.
“General…”
Isaiah looked at him.
The sergeant’s voice changed.
“Why didn’t you just say that?”
Isaiah stared for several seconds.
Then:
“Would it have mattered?”
Carter’s mouth opened.
Isaiah continued.
“I gave you my name.”
“My address.”
“Permission to verify property records.”
“A recommendation to contact your commander.”
“Your officer searched me.”
“Found no stolen property.”
“No weapon.”
“No burglary tools.”
“You still cuffed me.”
Carter looked away.
Isaiah leaned back.
“So tell me, Sergeant.”
“If I had said four-star general in the first thirty seconds, what exactly would that prove?”
Carter remained silent.
Isaiah finished quietly.
“That your professionalism depends on the social status of the person standing in front of you?”
Higgins stared at the steering wheel.
Nobody spoke again until Lieutenant Shaw arrived.
His SUV stopped behind them.
Shaw stepped out fast.
Forty.
Black.
Lean.
Uniform immaculate.
His expression when he opened the rear door was difficult to read.
He looked at Isaiah.
Then the cuffs.
Then Higgins.
Then Carter.
“Body cameras?”
Higgins nodded.
“On.”
Shaw looked toward Carter.
Carter’s face changed.
“My battery—”
“Is your camera off?”
“It died earlier.”
Shaw’s jaw tightened.
“Of course it did.”
He looked at Isaiah.
“General Montgomery, I’m Lieutenant Nathan Shaw.”
Isaiah nodded.
“I know.”
Shaw blinked.
“You do?”
“Name plate.”
A brief silence.
Then Shaw almost smiled.
Not from humor.
Nerves.
“I apologize for—”
Isaiah stopped him.
“Not yet.”
Shaw stared.
Isaiah looked toward Higgins.
“Photograph the cuffs.”
Shaw immediately understood.
He took out his phone.
Then stopped.
“Department camera.”
Better.
A responding officer retrieved one.
They photographed Isaiah’s wrists.
The cuff position.
Red compression marks.
The interior.
The evidence pouch.
House key.
Everything.
Only then did Shaw remove the cuffs.
Isaiah brought his hands forward.
Blood rushed painfully into his fingers.
Higgins looked down.
Carter said nothing.
Shaw offered to drive Isaiah home.
Isaiah stepped from the cruiser.
Fog had begun lifting.
Morning traffic moved normally on the road beside them.
A school bus passed.
Children stared through windows at the cluster of police vehicles.
Isaiah rolled his wrists.
Then looked toward Carter.
The sergeant braced.
Isaiah said only:
“Your body camera failed?”
Carter nodded.
“Battery.”
“What time?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You should become sure.”
Shaw looked at him.