"I am."
"So this is either very good or very bad."
He told her. He told it in order and he tried to tell it straight, and he found partway through that he could not tell it straight in the report voice, that every time he reached for one of the ironed sentences it came apart in his hands, and in the end he simply said what had happened. That he had taken a personal day to sit in the lobby. That he had seen a twelve-year-old girl with her hands in an old woman's grocery bag and had decided what that meant before he had looked at anything. That she had refused to let him search her backpack and he had taken it from her and emptied it on a table. That when she reached for the groceries he had grabbed her by both arms from behind and held on, and that she had told him he was hurting her, and that he had not let go until her father told him to. That there were marks. That the father had asked for his badge number and Kurt had given it to him.
Kalani did not say anything for a while. He could hear her breathing, and the faint bright music of the game show, somebody winning something.
"Is she hurt," Kalani said finally. "Beyond the marks."
"I don't think so. I don't know. I don't think so."
"Did you use any other force. Did she go to the ground. Did you cuff her."
"No. No. No."
"Did you identify yourself before you went hands-on."
"Yes."