Maya felt tears threatening again, but this time they were tears of anger, not fear. She stood up slowly from the curb, her school materials scattered around her feet.
"Officer Sullivan, my mother taught me to respect police officers because they have a difficult job protecting our community. But she also taught me that respect goes both ways. You've been disrespectful to me from the moment you walked over here."
"Sit back down!" Sullivan commanded, his hand moving toward his weapon again.
The crowd gasped. Several people stepped back; others raised their phones higher, making sure they captured every second.
"I'm not threatening you," Maya said calmly, remaining standing but keeping her hands visible. "I'm just trying to understand why asking polite questions for a school project has turned into this."
Sullivan's radio crackled suddenly with a priority dispatch: "All units in the downtown area, be advised we have federal agents operating in your sector. Exercise caution and await further instructions."
Sullivan barely registered the message, too focused on the defiant teenager in front of him, but Rodriguez heard it clearly, as did Mitchell.
Maya's phone buzzed again in Sullivan's grip. Another text message appeared on the lock screen: Maya, where exactly are you? Saw the news about an incident near Millennium Park. Respond immediately.
This time, Sullivan didn't read it aloud. Something about the professional tone made him pause. The message didn't sound like it came from a cleaning lady or secretary.
Across the street, the figure from the black SUV was walking purposefully toward the crowd, but the gathering of people blocked Sullivan's view.
"Last chance," Sullivan announced to Maya. "Apologize for lying. Admit your mother doesn't work for the FBI, and maybe we can settle this with just a citation."
Maya looked him directly in the eyes. "Officer Sullivan, I will not apologize for telling the truth about my family."
Sullivan's face twisted with rage. "That's it. You're under arrest."
He grabbed Maya's arm roughly, causing her to stumble. The crowd erupted in angry murmurs. Several people shouted objections.
"Hey, that's too rough!" someone called out.
"She's just a kid!" another voice added.
As Sullivan wrestled with his handcuffs, Maya's phone rang again. This time, it was a call, not a text. The screen lit up with that same contact: Mom - FBI.
And for the first time since this ordeal began, Sullivan heard footsteps approaching from behind him. Confident, measured footsteps that made him look up from his struggling with the handcuffs.