Every officer who entered that house without proper authorization could face serious consequences. A murmur ran through the crowd of neighbors. Someone whistled low and long. Angela noticed several officers shifting uncomfortably, their earlier confidence evaporating as the situation grew more complicated. The two officers brushed past Angela, their boots heavy on her front walkway.
She moved to block their path, her army training kicking in as she planted her feet. "You are not authorized to enter this property," she said firmly. Officer Griggs grabbed her arm from behind. Another officer seized her other arm. Before she could brace herself, they yanked her backwards.
Angela's feet left the ground for a moment before she slammed hard onto the pavement. The impact knocked the wind from her lungs. Her phone clattered away, skidding across the asphalt. "Stop resisting! " Griggs shouted, though Angela hadn't moved. He drove his knee into her back, grinding her chest against the rough pavement.
"She's not resisting! " Mrs. Carter cried out from her porch. "Leave her alone! " Angela could barely breathe with Griggs's weight crushing her. She turned her head to the side, cheek scraping on the ground. Through the forest of police boots surrounding her, she saw neighbors surging forward, phones raised high.
"Back up! Everyone back up! " officers shouted, forming a barrier between the crowd and Angela. The sound of breaking wood echoed from inside her house. Angela tried to lift her head, but Griggs shoved it back down. She heard drawers being yanked open, furniture scraping across floors, objects crashing.
"They're destroying her house! " someone yelled from the crowd. "This is wrong! " "This is what happens when you harbor criminals. Captain Holt's voice boomed over the chaos. He paced in front of the gathered neighbors like a preacher delivering a sermon. We have reliable intelligence that a violent fugitive has been seen entering and exiting this residence.
Angela's mind raced even as Griggs roughly twisted her arms behind her back. A violent fugitive? She knew every person who had visited her home in the past month. Something wasn't adding up. The metallic bite of handcuffs cut into her wrists as Griggs ratcheted them too tight.
Inside her house, the destruction continued. She heard picture frames shattering, the dining room chairs toppling. "Captain," a voice called from inside. "No sign of the suspect in the main rooms. Moving to the basement. " "Keep searching," Holt ordered.
"He's here somewhere. Check every corner, every closet. " Angela's thoughts whirled. What suspect? Who were they supposedly looking for? She managed to turn her head enough to see her phone lying a few feet away, the call to Marcus still active.
More crashes from inside, the sound of her kitchen cabinets being emptied onto the floor. Upstairs, footsteps thundered across the ceiling as officers moved room to room. "Get her up," Holt commanded. Griggs and another officer hauled Angela to her feet. Her legs trembled, shoulders screaming from the awkward position of her cuffed hands.
She could feel blood trickling from her scraped cheek. "Who exactly are you looking for? " Angela demanded, finding her voice. "What's the name of this supposed fugitive? " Holt's face tightened. He stepped closer, invading her personal space. "You know exactly who we're after, Mrs.
Brooks. Don't play innocent. No, I don't know. Angela shot back. Because there is no fugitive, is there?