“Birthday presents.” Mercer crouched and reached for the first one.
“No.” Adrian’s voice came out firmer than before.
Mercer looked up. “No?” Adrian shook his head.
“You’re not opening my son’s gifts.” Mercer slowly stood.
“If nothing is wrong, why are you so worried about me looking?” Nicole muttered, “You cannot be serious.”
Adrian answered carefully. “Because they are presents for my eight-year-old son, not evidence.”
Mercer told him to step back. Adrian did.
Then Mercer picked up the first bag and pulled out a book about planets. He opened another and found a basketball. A third contained a remote-control truck.
One little boy called from the patio, “That one’s mine.” His mother immediately placed a hand on his shoulder.
Adrian’s voice hardened. “Please stop opening the children’s gifts.” Mercer looked directly at him.
“Do not tell me how to do my job.” Mr. Price finally spoke from beside the grill.
“Officer, there is nothing here.” Mercer turned sharply.
“Did I ask you?” Adrian raised a hand toward the elderly man.
“Mr. Price, it’s okay.” Mr. Price clearly disagreed but stepped back.
Mercer searched beneath the gift table. Nothing was there. Then he turned toward the cake.
Nicole changed instantly. “Don’t touch that.”
Mercer looked toward her. She pointed at the plastic container.
“That is my son’s birthday cake.” Mercer said he could see that.
“Then leave it alone.” Mercer looked toward Adrian.
“Your wife always tell officers what they can touch?” Adrian answered, “She tells people not to damage something she spent six hours making.”
Eli had moved closer. His silver helmet was back on his head. “Mom?”
“Go play, baby.” He stayed where he was.
Mercer lifted one corner of the cake container. Nicole stepped forward.
“Please put it down.” Mercer told her to back up.
Adrian moved between them with both hands visible. “Everybody is backing up.”
Then he looked at Mercer. “Just put the cake back.”
For a moment, Mercer did. Adrian thought the encounter might finally be ending.
Then Mercer spotted a rectangular storage tub beneath the table. “What’s in that?” Adrian answered that it contained leftover decorations and table supplies.
“Move the cake.” Adrian nodded.
“I’ll move it.” Mercer raised his hand.
“No. Stay where you are.” Adrian froze.
“I’m offering to move it so nothing gets damaged.” Mercer said he did not want Adrian touching anything during the investigation.
He lifted the cake himself. The container tilted enough that Nicole gasped.
“Careful.” Mercer looked toward her.
Something passed across his face. Adrian would spend months wondering whether Mercer consciously decided to be cruel at that exact moment or whether irritation simply became more important than judgment. He never found a satisfying answer.
Mercer placed the cake close to the edge of the table and pulled the storage tub outward with his foot. The tub struck the table leg. The cake shifted.
Nicole whispered, “Please.” Adrian instinctively moved forward.
Mercer snapped, “Stay back.” Adrian stopped immediately.
The cake slid from the table. It hit the grass, bounced once, and landed partly on the concrete patio. The plastic lid split.
“My cake!” Eli screamed and started running toward it.
Mercer stepped in front of him. “Everybody back.” Eli froze.
Then Mercer looked down at the broken container. He had room to step around it. Instead, his boot came directly down through the center.
Blue frosting spread beneath the plastic. One of the silver sugar rockets disappeared under his heel. The number eight cracked.
For several seconds, no one moved. Adrian looked at Eli.
His son’s face was the only thing in the yard that mattered. Adrian went to him slowly, making sure Mercer could see every movement.
Eli ran into his arms. “I just wanted my cake.” Adrian pressed his cheek against the boy’s hair.
“I know.” He could feel himself shaking.
When he finally stood again, he saw the red recording light on Mercer’s chest. Camille still had her phone raised. At least three other adults were recording too.
Then Adrian remembered Rebecca Sloan’s card.
He reached slowly toward his back pocket. Mercer’s hand went toward his belt.
“What are you reaching for?” Adrian answered, “My phone.”
“Slow.” Adrian obeyed.
He removed the phone and held it where Mercer could see it. “Who are you calling?”
Adrian looked toward the crushed cake, then toward Eli. “Someone who told me to call if I ever had another direct encounter with you.”
For the first time since entering the backyard, Mercer’s confidence shifted. It was small. Adrian saw it anyway.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Mercer asked. Adrian opened his contacts.
Three months earlier, he had saved Lieutenant Rebecca Sloan under Professional Standards. He pressed the number. Sloan answered after several rings.
“Lieutenant Sloan.” Adrian said his name.
There was a brief pause. “Mr. Cole?”
“Yes.” He looked directly at Mercer.
“You told me to call if Officer Travis Mercer had another encounter involving my family while the Malik complaint was still open.” Sloan’s voice became more focused immediately.
“What happened?” Adrian described it without adjectives.
“He responded to my son’s birthday party.” He looked toward the gift bags.
“He entered the backyard, searched coolers and children’s presents after I objected, and he just crushed my eight-year-old son’s birthday cake under his boot.” Sloan became silent.
Then she asked whether anyone was physically injured. Adrian said no.
“Is Mercer still there?” Yes.
“Body camera running?” Adrian looked at the red light.
“Yes.” Sloan told him not to argue, not to block the officer physically, and not to touch anything that could become evidence.
“I’m not.” She asked for the address.
“I’m coming with a patrol supervisor.” Adrian thanked her and ended the call.
Mercer watched him put the phone away. “You called Internal Affairs?”
“I called the investigator who asked me to.” Mercer’s jaw tightened again.
“You think some phone call changes what I’m doing?” Adrian looked toward Eli.
“I think evidence should change what you’re doing.” Mercer said nothing.
The next eighteen minutes felt longer than the first half hour. Mercer stopped opening containers. He stopped inspecting the patio.
That was obvious to everyone. Before Adrian mentioned Professional Standards, Mercer had insisted the situation required continued searching. Afterward, the urgency vanished.
Camille quietly told Nicole she had recorded everything from the moment Mercer opened the first gift bag. Nicole nodded. Mr. Price turned off the grill.
Nobody cared whether the burgers burned anymore. Parents gathered children close.
The bounce house continued humming in the corner. Eli sat in a patio chair with his bent silver helmet in his lap.
Adrian sat beside him. “Is the police officer going to jail?” Eli asked.
“I don’t know.” His son frowned.
“He broke my cake.” Adrian nodded.
“I know.” Eli looked toward Mercer.
“Isn’t that bad?” Adrian said yes.
“Then why don’t you know what happens?” Adrian thought carefully.
“Because deciding what happens next is not my job.” Eli asked whose job it was.
“People who are supposed to look at what happened and tell the truth about it.” Eli stared at him.
“Will they?” Adrian wished he could promise.
“We are going to make sure they get the chance.” It was the most honest answer he had.
Nicole sat on the other side of Eli. She carefully reshaped the bent helmet. “Your birthday isn’t finished.”
Eli looked toward the cake. “It looks finished.”
Nicole’s eyes filled. Adrian took her hand.