Raymond tried again.
“Colton, run the address.”
Colton ignored him.
Nathaniel remained still.
“Officer, I am going to suggest something once.”
The younger officer’s jaw tightened.
“Go ahead.”
“Return to your vehicle, verify the address, and approach this again based on facts rather than assumptions.”
Colton’s face changed.
The statement did not sound like fear.
It sounded like instruction.
That irritated him.
“Turn around.”
Nathaniel frowned.
“For what?”
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Raymond stepped forward.
“Colton.”
Nathaniel’s voice became quieter.
“Am I being detained?”
“Yes.”
“For what suspected crime?”
“Trespassing.”
Nathaniel glanced toward his own house.
Raymond closed his eyes briefly.
Colton grabbed Nathaniel’s right wrist.
Years earlier, Nathaniel had spent enough time in field operations to know several ways he could have broken the grip almost automatically. His body remembered movements his mind had not used in decades. He did none of them.
He turned.
Placed his hands behind him.
And let Colton put on the cuffs.
The metal closed too tightly.
Nathaniel inhaled once.
“Officer Maddox.”
Colton paused.
Nathaniel had read the name from his badge.
“I will not physically resist you.”
“Good.”
“But before you take another step, I recommend you verify my name and this address.”
Colton smirked.
“You’ll get your chance downtown.”
“No.”
Nathaniel looked over his shoulder.
“You will.”
The sentence bothered Raymond more than Colton.
Something about the man did not fit the situation.
Most people who were mistakenly handcuffed became loud, frightened, angry, or confused.
Nathaniel looked none of those things.
He looked observant.
He watched where Colton placed his hands.
Noticed the time.
Looked toward the cruiser camera.
Looked toward the neighboring doorbell cameras.
Catalogued.
Colton walked him toward the patrol car.
A neighbor opened her front door.
“Mr. Brooks?”
Nathaniel turned his head.
Mrs. Caldwell from two houses down stood on her porch wearing a robe.
“What’s happening?”
Colton called back, “Please stay inside, ma’am.”
She ignored him.
“That’s Nathaniel Brooks.”
Colton opened the rear door.
“We’re sorting it out.”
“He lives there.”
Raymond looked toward his partner.
Colton’s grip tightened.
Nathaniel felt it.
The neighbor continued.
“He’s lived there longer than I have.”
Colton shoved Nathaniel toward the seat.
“Ma’am, go inside.”
That was the second moment when the encounter should have ended.
The first had been the computer in the cruiser.
The second was a neighbor confirming the man’s identity.
Colton ignored both.
Nathaniel sat inside the molded plastic back seat while Raymond climbed into the passenger side.