He opened the center console and retrieved a worn, dark brown leather wallet. He hurried back around the front of the car, flipping the wallet open. I got it. Reed said, pulling out the New York State driver's license. He looked at the name, then at the photo, then at the man pinned against the car.
Name is David L. Thompson. Address is out in Westlake. Mitchell scoffed again. Westlake was an affluent area, but not quite Oakridge Estates. Westlake, huh?
That's a long way from here, David. What, the pickings weren't good enough in your own neighborhood? David didn't answer. He was carefully memorizing Mitchell's badge number, his nameplate, the unit number on the cruiser, and the exact timestamp on the Audi's dashboard clock. He was building a mental docket.
Run him. Mitchell ordered, maintaining his grip on David's wrists. Run for wants and warrants. See if our guy has a parole officer he forgot to mention. Reed unclipped the microphone attached to his shoulder epaulette.
He depressed the button, the radio emitting a sharp static click. Dispatch, this is Unit Four Bravo, requesting a 10-29 on a David L. Thompson. Date of birth, August 14th, 1969. New York license number. Reed rattled off the alphanumeric sequence.
Copy that. Four Bravo. Stand by. The female dispatcher's voice crackled back through the speaker. For two agonizing minutes, the street was filled only with the sound of Chloe's frantic crying and the harsh, heavy breathing of Officer Mitchell.
David remained perfectly still against the car. He wasn't just angry anymore. He was deeply sorrowful. He thought of all the young men who stood in his courtroom, men who didn't know the law, men who panicked in situations exactly like this, and men who ended up dead or incarcerated because of officers just like Brian Mitchell. The radio crackled back to life, but it wasn't the standard automated rundown of a clean record.
The dispatcher's voice had dropped its usual monotone cadence. She sounded tense, urgent. Four Bravo, this is dispatch. Confirming that name. Did you say David L. Thompson?
Middle initial? Reed frowned, looking at the license again. Affirmative, dispatch. Middle name Lawrence. Why, what do we have?