Evelyn’s voice stayed low.
“I didn’t make it anything.”
Mercer moved her again.
His shoe caught the briefcase.
It slid.
The latch broke.
Everything spilled.
The master lease landed face-up.
So did a laminated property credential created for building vendors and security.
A gold seal surrounded Evelyn’s photograph.
PROPERTY OWNER — FRANKLIN CENTER.
Jonathan Pierce stepped out of the elevator.
He had arrived during the final seconds of the confrontation and initially assumed police were responding to an unrelated incident.
Then he saw Evelyn.
Handcuffed.
He saw the documents.
His mouth opened.
“Officer.”
Mercer turned.
Jonathan walked rapidly toward them.
“Take those cuffs off her.”
“Sir, step back.”
“That woman owns this building.”
Mercer looked down.
The lease.
The photograph.
The name.
Then toward Bradley.
Bradley had gone pale.
Jonathan looked at him.
“What happened?”
Bradley said nothing.
Jonathan turned to Mercer.
“She is our landlord.”
Mercer’s expression changed.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
“I wasn’t given that information.”
Evelyn laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“You were given it by me.”
Jonathan looked at the cuffs.
“Remove them.”
Mercer hesitated.
That hesitation angered Jonathan more than anything else.
“I said remove them.”
Mercer unlocked the first cuff.
Then the second.
Evelyn brought her hands forward.
Red marks circled one wrist.
Mercer stepped back.
“Ma’am, there appears to have been a misunderstanding.”
Evelyn stared.
“A misunderstanding?”
Jonathan crouched to collect the documents.
Evelyn stopped him.
“No.”
He looked up.
“Leave them.”
She turned toward Mercer.
“What exactly did you misunderstand?”
Mercer looked around.
Phones were still recording.
“I responded to a trespass call.”
“And did you investigate trespass?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“You investigated me.”