Camille set the shopping bags down carefully.
“What detention?”
“This young man is refusing to provide identification and may be connected to reported property thefts.”
Jalen turned.
“I did provide—”
Camille raised one hand.
Not silencing him harshly.
Telling him she had him.
Jalen stopped.
She looked at Brenner.
“My son is fifteen.”
“I’m aware he claims that.”
Camille’s eyes narrowed.
“He claims?”
“He doesn’t have identification.”
“He has a school ID in my handbag.”
“That doesn’t help me if I don't have it.”
“You could have allowed him to call me.”
Brenner glanced toward the phone on the ground.
“He was using the device during an investigative contact.”
“He showed you a photograph.”
The officer paused.
Jalen looked toward his mother.
“How do you know?”
Camille’s face softened for half a second.
“I could see Dad’s picture from halfway across the plaza.”
Jalen swallowed.
Then she looked at Brenner again.
“What exactly is the suspected offense?”
“We've had skateboard thefts.”
“So you saw a Black teenager with a skateboard and decided—”
“I didn't say anything about race.”
Camille stopped.
Jalen heard it too.
The sentence arrived before she had accused him of racial targeting.
Brenner realized it.
His jaw tightened.
Camille said quietly:
“I was going to ask how you connected him to a reported theft.”
The officer crossed his arms.
“The board appeared consistent with the description.”
“What description?”
“Green deck.”
Camille looked down.
Jalen’s skateboard had once been bright green.
Two years of use had removed so much paint that brown wood showed across almost half the surface.
Camille looked back up.
“Brand?”
Brenner paused.
“Unknown.”
“Truck color?”
“Unknown.”
“Wheel color?”
The officer’s face hardened.
“This isn’t a deposition.”
“No.”
Camille nodded.
“It isn’t.”
Then she removed her phone.
Brenner watched.
Jalen did too.
Camille looked at the screen.
One missed call.
She tapped a number.
The officer said:
“Ma’am, I need you to put that away.”
Camille did not.
“Why?”
“Because this is an active investigation.”
“Am I detained?”
Brenner’s expression changed.
Jalen almost smiled despite himself.
His mother had apparently received the same school assembly.
The call connected.
A man answered.
“Camille?”
“Yes.”
“Everything okay?”
“No.”
Brenner looked toward her.
Camille held the phone in front of her rather than placing it at her ear.
The screen displayed the active call.
CHIEF MARCUS HENLEY.
Jalen stared.
He knew the name.
Everybody in Briarwood knew the name.
Marcus Henley had become police chief eight months earlier.
Brenner knew the name too.
His face changed.
Not dramatically.
A tightening around the eyes.
A slight straightening of his posture.
Camille said:
“I’m outside the Nordstrom entrance at Briarwood Galleria.”
“What happened?”
“Officer Brenner is detaining my fifteen-year-old son.”
Silence.