"I'm conducting an investigation. You attacked me. I removed your hand from my purse, " Norah said. "Nothing more. " Boyd jabbed a finger toward her.
That's a lie. You threw him down those steps. I didn't strike anyone, Norah said. I didn't use force. I simply moved away from unwanted contact.
Hutchkins pushed off the railing, his composure gone now, replaced by something raw underneath the badge. That's assault on a police officer. Both of you are under arrest. Norah and Vivien looked at each other. It was one glance, quick, wordless.
The kind of look that only exists between people who've shared 36 years of the same face, the same childhood bedroom, the same father. Something passed between them in that half second. An old understanding, unspoken, but complete. Then, with movements so synchronized they might have been rehearsed a hundred times, both women reached inside their jackets. Hutchkins tensed.
Boyd's hand dropped toward his weapon. Doyle stepped forward, alarmed. The sisters pulled their hands free in perfect unison. Gold federal badges caught the last of the daylight and threw it back like small mirrors. Special Agent Norah Whitfield.
FBI. Special Agent Vivien Whitfield. FBI. The credentials hung in the air between them. The leather cases worn soft at the edges. The identification photos matching the two faces staring back at the officers below. Pierce stepped backward immediately, his hands lifting away from his belt, the color draining from his face as the weight of what he was looking at seemed to land all at once.
Boyd's mouth fell open. Doyle went perfectly still. Neither sister had planned this life exactly. Growing up, Vivien wanted to be a veterinarian, and Norah wanted to build houses like their father. It was their father, oddly enough, who nudged them both somewhere else, telling them more than once that the world needed people willing to stand between the powerful and the people.
Those powerful men like to push around. He never got specific about what he meant by that. Norah used to think it was just a nice thing. Fathers said to make their daughters feel important. The kind of line meant to sound better than it was.