“When the news stories said Ava climbed over the barrier, I…”
She stopped.
Daniel waited.
“I thought maybe I remembered wrong.”
There.
Memory surrendering to official certainty.
Daniel looked toward the old ramp.
“How long did you think that?”
“Years.”
Kessler’s radio sounded.
He answered automatically.
Another officer was approaching.
Daniel immediately said:
“No.”
Kessler looked at him.
“What?”
“No one touches the camera.”
“I agree.”
Daniel stared.
Kessler repeated:
“No one touches it.”
The second officer arrived.
Kessler spoke quietly to him.
Then turned back.
“Mr. Reed, you are no longer detained.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“Generous.”
Kessler accepted it.
“I also want to make clear that I am requesting, not ordering, that you preserve the images exactly as they are.”
“They already exist on forensic recovery media.”
“Good.”
“I have the laboratory report.”
Kessler nodded.
“I recommend you contact counsel before providing copies to anyone.”
Daniel stared.
That was the first useful thing the man had said.
Melissa lifted her phone again.
“My video has the whole contact from when he grabbed you.”
Kessler looked at her.
“Please preserve that too.”
She almost smiled.
“I was planning to.”
Daniel looked toward the crowd.
Dozens of strangers were pretending not to watch.
Some openly recording.
He suddenly wanted to disappear.
“I’m leaving.”
Kessler nodded.
Daniel walked ten steps.
Then stopped.
Turned.
“Sergeant.”
Kessler looked up.
Daniel pointed toward the officer’s chest.
“Body camera?”
“Recording.”
“Preserve all of it.”
“Yes.”
“Not just after you recognized me.”
Kessler’s face tightened.
“All of it.”
Daniel nodded.
Then walked away.
Melissa followed at a distance.
He stopped near the parking lot.
“What?”
She held up both hands.
“I don't want anything.”
“Then why are you following?”
“Because you shouldn't be alone.”
The sentence broke something.
Daniel looked away.
“I have been alone with this for four years.”
“I know.”
“No.”
He turned back.
“You keep saying versions of that.”
“You do not know.”
Melissa nodded.
“You're right.”
She stopped.
“Can I call someone for you?”
Daniel thought of Claire.
His former wife.
They had not spoken beyond practical matters in almost three months.
Their son Ben was twenty now and away at college.
The divorce had been final eighteen months earlier.
Ava’s death had not been the sole cause.
That was too simple.
But grief had turned every weakness in their marriage into a fracture.
Daniel said:
“Claire.”
Melissa waited.
“My ex-wife.”
“Do you want me to call?”
“No.”
He looked at his phone.