“They’re checking something.”
“What?”
Again, she had no simple answer.
Malik stood near Derrick.
He was twelve.
Old enough to understand more.
Young enough that Derrick wished he did not.
Klein asked:
“How many people are here?”
“Maybe seventeen.”
“Everybody invited?”
“Yes.”
“Any alcohol?”
Derrick stared.
“Yes.”
“For adults.”
“Any drugs?”
The yard became completely silent.
Monica’s face hardened.
“No.”
Klein nodded.
“I have to ask.”
Derrick looked toward the houses around them.
“Do you?”
The officer frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means if my white neighbor has fifteen people over for burgers, do you ask him about drugs before somebody even describes seeing drugs?”
Klein stiffened.
“I don’t appreciate the implication.”
Derrick’s jaw tightened.
“I don’t appreciate standing in my own yard being interviewed like I’m applying for permission to use it.”
One of Monica’s coworkers quietly took out her phone.
The second officer noticed.
“You can record.”
He spoke firmly.
“Just stay back.”
That sentence made three more people pull out phones.
Across the street, Lorraine Beckett watched from the end of her driveway.
She had come outside when the patrol cars arrived.
Arms crossed.
Sunglasses hiding her eyes.
Derrick spotted her.
Their gaze held for a second.
He knew.
He could not prove it.
But he knew.
Then a news van turned onto the street.
Derrick stared.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
A reporter had apparently picked up the police scanner traffic and followed the call.
The van parked at the corner.
A cameraman stepped out.
Monica’s stomach dropped.
“No.”
Derrick turned.
“Take the kids inside.”
“I’m not leaving you out here.”
“Monica.”
She looked toward Malik.
Then Avery.
The children were scared.
That decided it.
“Come on.”
Avery resisted.
“Is Dad okay?”
“Yes.”
“Then why—”
“Inside.”
The girl obeyed.
Malik stayed.
Derrick looked at him.
“Go with your mother.”
“I’m staying.”
“Malik.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
The words hit Derrick hard.
“I know.”
“Then why do I have to hide?”
Derrick stared at his son.
He had no answer he liked.
Before he could find one, another vehicle turned onto Brookstone Terrace.
Black Chevrolet Suburban.
Georgia state government plates.
The neighborhood became quieter.
A second black SUV followed.
Then a Georgia State Patrol vehicle.
Sergeant Klein turned.
The officers exchanged glances.
Derrick closed his eyes briefly.
“Oh, Lord.”
Monica stopped halfway toward the house.
She recognized the vehicles too.
The first Suburban pulled behind the police cruiser.
The rear door opened.
Governor Rebecca Langford stepped out.
She was fifty-five, tall, with chestnut-brown hair cut just above her shoulders and a cream blazer over dark jeans. Two members of her security detail followed several steps behind.
The news cameraman almost tripped over his own equipment.
Lorraine lowered her sunglasses.
Her mouth opened.
Governor Langford looked at the patrol cars.
Then at Derrick.
Then toward the grill.
Finally, she looked at Monica.
“I’m guessing I arrived at a bad time.”
For three seconds, nobody answered.
Then Derrick laughed.
He could not help it.
The sound came out exhausted.
“You could say that.”
The governor walked toward him.
She had known Derrick for five years.
His electrical company had completed work on two state-funded community centers, and he later joined a small-business advisory council chaired by Langford before she became governor. Monica had met her twice at charity events.
Six days earlier, Langford’s office had called.
The governor would be nearby Saturday afternoon for a private fundraising meeting.
Could she stop by afterward for thirty minutes?
Derrick said yes.
Then made her promise not to turn the barbecue into a press event.
That promise had lasted until the local news van arrived for completely different reasons.
Langford looked toward Sergeant Klein.
“Officer.”
“Governor.”
He straightened instantly.
“What happened?”
Klein glanced toward Derrick.
“We received a report of a suspicious gathering.”
Langford looked toward the tables.
Then the grill.
Then the balloon tied to a chair.
“What was suspicious?”
Klein hesitated.
“Caller mentioned possible disturbance.”
“Was there a disturbance?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Drugs?”
“None observed.”
“Fight?”
“No.”
“Threat?”
“No.”
“Property crime?”
“No.”
Langford nodded.
“So we have a family barbecue.”
Klein looked uncomfortable.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The governor turned toward Derrick.
“Did you show them ID?”
Derrick looked at her.
“I was being asked.”
Langford’s expression changed.
“Why?”
Klein answered.
“Residency verification.”
She looked toward the brick house.
Then at Derrick.
“Whose name is on the deed?”
Derrick smiled faintly.
“Mine and Monica’s.”
Langford turned back.
“You needed government identification to confirm a homeowner was allowed to barbecue behind his own house?”
Klein started to respond.
Langford lifted one hand.
“I’m asking.”
The officer paused.
“We were responding to the information we received.”
“Which was?”
Klein looked toward the dispatch notes on his device.
“Large suspicious gathering.”
“Possible illegal activity.”
“Noise.”
Langford’s eyes moved toward the silent speaker.
Then to the children visible through the back windows.
“Who called?”
Klein did not answer.
He did not need to.
Lorraine suddenly turned toward her house.
Monica saw her.
“So it was her.”
Lorraine stopped.
Langford followed Monica’s gaze.
“Do you know that woman?”
“New neighbor.”
Derrick wiped one hand across his face.
“She moved in less than three weeks ago.”
Langford looked toward Klein.
“Did the caller report seeing a crime?”
“No.”
“Did she claim to see narcotics?”
“No.”
“Any weapon?”
“No.”
“Anyone trespassing?”
“No.”
“What exactly justified asking about drugs?”
Klein’s face reddened.
Derrick stayed silent.
He wanted to hear the answer too.
“We ask broad questions when circumstances are unclear.”
Governor Langford nodded.
“Fair.”
Then:
“Would the same questions be asked at every backyard gathering?”
No answer.
Langford looked toward the other officers.
One glanced down.
The governor sighed.
“This is not going to become a roadside press conference.”
She pointed gently toward the news crew.
“Everybody take a breath.”
Then she turned toward Derrick and Monica.
“Are you comfortable continuing your barbecue?”
Monica almost laughed.
“At this point?”
Langford smiled.
“I was promised peach cobbler.”
That broke something in the tension.
A few guests laughed.
Even Derrick smiled.
Klein spoke quietly.
“Mr. Carter.”
Derrick looked toward him.
“Based on what we’ve observed, there is no violation.”
“I know.”
Klein nodded.
“We’ll clear the call.”
“Okay.”
The officer hesitated.
“I’m sorry this disrupted your afternoon.”
Derrick looked at him for a long moment.
Then nodded.
“Thank you for saying that.”
The officers left.
No dramatic arrest.
No screaming.
No handcuffs.
That mattered.
Derrick knew things could have gone worse.
But the fact they had not gone worse did not make what happened acceptable.
The patrol cars disappeared around the corner.
The local news crew remained.
Governor Langford looked toward them.
Then toward Derrick.
“You want them gone?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“I can help with that.”
Her security director spoke quietly to the reporter.
The cameras moved back toward the street.
Langford walked into the backyard.
Avery came outside first.
She looked at the governor.
Then at her mother.
Then at the grill.
“Are we still having the party?”
Derrick looked at his daughter.
“What kind of question is that?”
She smiled.
Malik followed.
Langford crouched slightly toward him.
“I heard someone here thinks he can beat his father at cornhole.”
Malik’s fear weakened.
“I can.”
Derrick scoffed.
“Government misinformation.”
Langford laughed.
“I investigate allegations personally.”
That earned a real smile from Malik.
Within ten minutes, music returned.
Not as loud.
Derrick noticed that.