A habit he'd started in the academy and never dropped. Their patrol car's air conditioning had broken 4 days ago. The department had submitted a maintenance request. Nobody had gotten to it yet. Both officers arrived at 14 Cartwright Lane with their uniforms damp at the back.
Their patience already thin from 2 hours of sitting in a cold car that somehow still felt stuffy. Dutton climbed out first. Looked at the steam rising above the fence. Looked at the address. Looked at his phone where Parrish's complaint was logged.
He pushed open the side gate without knocking. Serena was floating on her back. Eyes closed, the steam moving around her in slow circles, the cold air pressing down from above. She didn't hear the gate. Didn't hear the boots on the stone deck.
Didn't hear anything until a voice sharp, flat, carrying the specific weight of someone who expected to be obeyed landed across the water. Hey. Hey, you. The black girl in the pool. Her eyes opened.
She didn't startle. Didn't splash. Just let her feet drop slowly to the bottom of the pool and stood there waist deep water still moving in soft rings around her steam rising between her and the two officers on the deck. Dutton stood with his thumbs hooked into his belt. Webb stood two steps behind him and to the right notebook already in hand, pen uncapped.
His eyes moved around the yard. The neat stack of outdoor furniture still in plastic. Wrapping the moving boxes visible through the glass back door. The brand new welcome mat that still had the sticker on it. He didn't say anything.
Get out of the pool. Dutton said. Hands where I can see them. Serena moved to the steps at the shallow end. Climbed out slowly.
The cold air hit her wet skin immediately. And she felt the contrast sharply, 84° behind her, 29° in front. Steam rose off her arms as she stepped onto the deck. She stood straight. Shoulders level.
Her eyes on Dutton with an expression that was not hostile. Not pleading. Not nervous. Simply present. Simply clear.