The youngest boy cried harder.
Ava’s eyes filled.
Malik shifted his body so the smaller children were behind him.
Walsh tightened his grip.
“Where’s the homeowner?”
“He’s inside.”
“Sure he is.”
“He’s my dad.”
Walsh gave him a contemptuous smile.
“You got a better story than that?”
Malik’s jaw tightened.
“It’s not a story.”
The patio door opened.
A man’s voice came from behind them.
Low.
Controlled.
“What are you doing in my yard?”
Both officers turned.
Darius Carter stood in the doorway.
He was forty-three, six-foot-four, broad through the shoulders, bald, with a neatly trimmed beard.
He wore a fitted black T-shirt, dark jeans, and work boots.
A ring of house keys hung from one hand.
For one second, he did not move.
His eyes took in the entire backyard.
The fallen cups.
The ball near the steps.
The toy water gun on the concrete.
The youngest boy crying.
Ava pressed against Malik with tears running down her cheeks.
And Walsh’s fist twisted into the front of his son’s hoodie.
Darius’s face changed.
Not into shouting.
Something colder.
He stepped fully onto the patio.
“Why are you in my yard…”
A pause.
“…and why are my children crying?”
The children looked toward him.
Ava’s entire posture changed immediately.
Rescue had arrived.
Walsh let go of Malik almost without realizing he was doing it.
Mercer’s smug expression weakened.
Darius came down two steps.
“Take your hands off my son.”
Walsh cleared his throat.
“We received a report of trespassing and vandalism.”
Darius looked around the backyard.
Then back at him.
“Four children are playing beside a smoking grill, a table full of food, an open patio door, and family furniture, and your conclusion was burglary?”
“We respond to what gets reported.”
“You respond by verifying.”
Mercer stepped forward.
“Sir, we’re doing our jobs.”
Darius’s eyes shifted toward him.
“No. You’re standing in my backyard frightening children.”
“We had a caller saying—”
“The caller didn’t make you grab my son.”
Mercer stopped.
Darius pointed toward Ava.
“The caller didn’t make you kick toys past my daughter.”
Then toward the younger boys.
“The caller didn’t make you threaten to drag seven- and nine-year-old children downtown.”
Walsh’s face hardened.
“Sir, I need you to calm down.”
Darius stared at him.
“I am calm.”
That was the problem.
There was nothing for Walsh to push against.
No yelling.
No physical threat.
No excuse.
Walsh tried another approach.
“You’re the homeowner?”
“Yes.”
“Can you prove that?”
Darius looked at him for a long moment.
Then reached slowly toward his back pocket.
Both officers became instantly alert.
Darius stopped.
“My wallet.”
Walsh nodded stiffly.
Darius removed it.
But instead of pulling out a driver’s license first, he opened a leather credential case.
A gold badge caught the sunlight.
Walsh’s face went blank.
Mercer stared.
Darius held it steady.
“Deputy Chief Darius Carter.”
Neither officer spoke.
Darius continued.
“I accepted the Brookdale Police Department position last week.”
Walsh swallowed.
Darius’s gaze remained fixed on him.
“I was scheduled to meet the patrol division Monday morning.”
Then he looked at Mercer.
“Apparently, the two of you wanted an introduction early.”
Mercer took half a step backward.
“Chief, we didn’t—”
“Don’t call me Chief right now.”
His voice remained quiet.
“You didn’t care who I was thirty seconds ago.”
Silence.
Darius glanced toward Malik.
His hoodie was stretched where Walsh had grabbed it.
Then to Ava.
Still crying.
“The fact that I have a badge does not suddenly make this wrong.”
Neither officer answered.
“It was wrong when Malik told you he lived here.”
Walsh looked away.
“It was wrong when Ava started crying.”
Mercer’s face tightened.
“It was wrong when those little boys froze because two armed adults entered their yard screaming at them.”
Darius lifted one hand toward the roofline.
“Back patio camera.”
Then toward the side gate.
“Side camera.”
Then the corner of the house.
“Rear security camera.”
Walsh looked up.
There were cameras everywhere.
Darius then looked directly at their uniforms.
“And your body cameras are running.”
Neither man said anything.
“Good.”
Darius put his wallet away.
“Keep them running.”