He looked at the flowers.
Then at the pruning shears lying safely beside the planter.
“What about those?”
“Gardening.”
“You always garden with blades sitting around?”
“They’re pruning shears.”
Harlan’s expression did not change.
Sloane looked toward Quinn.
The younger officer appeared increasingly uncomfortable.
“Officer Harlan, you have my full name and address. You have multiple methods to verify ownership. What exactly are you asking me to do?”
“Get your identification.”
“You want me to walk inside?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
Sloane shook her head.
“No.”
The reaction was immediate.
Harlan’s shoulders stiffened.
“No?”
“I’m not turning my back and walking into a house after an officer has approached me regarding a burglary report unless we establish how you intend to handle that movement.”
His mouth tightened.
“You think I’m going to shoot you?”
“I think clear communication is useful.”
“You’re being difficult.”
“No. I’m being careful.”
Harlan climbed fully onto the porch.
Quinn followed.
“Harlan,” he said quietly, “let’s just run her.”
Harlan raised one hand.
“I’ve got it.”
Those three words bothered Sloane.
Not because they were threatening.
Because of what they told her.
Officer Quinn had suggested the easiest solution twice.
Harlan had rejected it twice.
Which meant resolution was no longer the goal.
Control was.
Sloane knew that pattern.
She had prosecuted public corruption cases long enough to recognize when an authority figure stopped investigating facts and started defending ego.
She looked at Harlan’s chest.
Body camera.
Small red indicator.
Recording.
Good.
“Officer, is your body camera active?”
Harlan gave a short laugh.
“You worried about my camera?”
“No.”
“You should be worried about answering questions.”
Sloane’s eyes remained on him.
“I have answered every legitimate question you’ve asked.”
That sentence changed the air.
Harlan moved closer.
“You don’t get to decide what’s legitimate.”
“I’m not deciding anything. I’m pointing out that you already have enough information to verify who owns this house.”
“You want to lecture me on police work?”
“No.”
“Sure sounds like it.”
Quinn shifted again.
“Grant.”
“Stay out of it.”
Sloane looked at Quinn.
His face changed.
Something old was happening here.
Not this exact incident.
Something familiar.
A hierarchy.
A routine.
A junior officer knowing when a senior one was wrong but not yet knowing whether he was brave enough to say so.
Sloane had seen that too.
Harlan pointed toward the railing.
“Turn around.”
Sloane stared at him.
“For what?”
“Obstruction.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Excuse me?”
“I have not obstructed you.”
“You refused identification.”
“I identified myself.”
“You refused to produce ID.”
“I offered several verification methods.”
“You refused a lawful order.”
“You told me to enter a residence you currently believe may be connected to a burglary investigation. I asked for clarification.”
“You’re arguing.”
“Argument is not obstruction.”
Harlan stepped directly in front of her.
“You one of those people who watches courtroom videos online and thinks you know the law?”
Sloane almost smiled.
Almost.
Instead she said, “Officer Harlan, I strongly recommend that you stop escalating a simple property verification.”
He reached for her wrist.
Quinn moved.