Ma'am, I'm going to need you to step away from the pool.
The voice sliced through the humid Georgia air like a blade, sharp and certain with the kind of authority that didn't ask, it demanded. Belle Johnson turned her head slowly, her sunglasses slipping down the bridge of her nose just enough to catch the reflection of two uniformed officers approaching the pool gate. She didn't stand. Not yet. She didn't move at all. She just blinked and stared, her books still open in her lap, her iced water sweating on the plastic table beside her. Her body tensed, not because she was afraid, but because she recognized the look in the taller cop's eyes, the one that said he had already made up his mind about who she was, and more importantly, who she wasn't.
"I'm sorry," she asked, voice calm but clipped.
The officer's boots hit the pavement with a heavy rhythm as he stepped inside the pool area, his partner trailing close behind. "We got a report of someone trespassing," he said, tapping his notepad. "We need to confirm you live here."
She tilted her head slightly. "And what made me the suspect?"
The shorter officer's lip twitched just slightly. "You match the description."
Of course she did. But relaxing alone, that was all it ever took. "I live in unit 308C," Belle said evenly, reaching slowly for her bag. "My key card and ID are right here. Would you like to see them?"