“Working on it.”
“Property?”
Cole reached into Leonard’s pocket.
He removed a leather wallet.
“Here.”
Briggs took it.
Then opened it.
The first thing he saw was the driver’s license.
Leonard A. Hayes.
Briarwood Avenue.
Briggs stopped.
His eyes moved toward Leonard.
Then back to the ID.
He removed his glasses.
“Mr. Hayes?”
Leonard looked at him.
“Good morning, Walter.”
Briggs went pale.
Cole noticed.
“What?”
Briggs stood so quickly his chair rolled backward.
“Unlock him.”
Cole frowned.
“What?”
“Take those cuffs off.”
“Sergeant, he’s under arrest.”
Briggs came around the desk.
“Officer Cole.”
His voice changed.
Every conversation in the booking area stopped.
“Take the cuffs off this man.”
Cole looked from Briggs to Leonard.
“I don’t understand.”
“No.”
Briggs reached toward Cole’s belt.
“You clearly do not.”
He took the cuff key himself.
Then unlocked Leonard’s wrists.
Leonard rubbed them slowly.
Briggs looked at the red marks.
His face darkened.
“Were these checked?”
Leonard said nothing.
He did not need to.
Briggs turned toward Cole.
“Do you know who you arrested?”
Cole stared.
“No.”
Briggs pointed toward Leonard.
“This is Leonard Hayes.”
“I know his name.”
“No, you know the letters printed on his license.”
Briggs’s voice rose.
“Leonard Hayes is the chairman and executive director of the Metropolitan Civilian Police Review Authority.”
Cole’s face emptied.
Briggs continued.
“He signs disciplinary recommendations.”
Silence.
“He sits on officer-retention hearings.”
Cole swallowed.
“He reviews sustained misconduct cases.”
The booking room had become completely still.
“And three months ago, he testified before city council about officers making unsupported stops based on race.”
Cole looked at Leonard.
For the first time that morning, he actually saw him.
Not suspect.
Not threat.
Not obstacle.
Person.
Then title.
And suddenly the title mattered far too much.
“I didn’t know.”
Leonard looked at him.
“I’m aware.”
Briggs picked up the desk phone.
“Captain Donovan needs to come downstairs.”
Cole stepped closer.
“Sergeant, I had a burglary call.”
Briggs raised one finger.
“Stop.”
“The guy wouldn’t identify himself.”
“Stop talking.”
“He matched—”
Briggs slammed the phone receiver down.
“Matched what?”
Cole froze.
Briggs stared.
“What was the description?”
Cole said nothing.
That silence frightened him more than yelling.
Briggs picked up another terminal.