Malik asked softly. "Who?" "My mom." The words came with unintended bitterness. He closed his eyes, tasting shame.
Bennett asked for ID. Malik handed over his student card, blue with the campus seal and a photo he barely recognized. She jotted details. The assistant manager says you've done nothing wrong. The associate called, voice low.
I'm sorry you were inconvenienced. Malik managed to nod. He'd expected awkwardness, but not public spectacle, not his mother's son reduced to profile and suspicion. The officers conferred in low tones. Then Bennett handed back his card.
All right, you're free to go. Sorry for the inconvenience. He exhaled, straightened his shoulders. Still something in his gut knotted tight. He turned to leave, but then a presence filled the doorway.
Malik's breath caught. A tall woman, dark suit tailored to authority, stepped inside like the room parted for her. Badge clipped to her belt bore the seal of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Malik, she said, voice low but firm. He froze.
Are you all right? He blinked, disbelief pinching his chest. Mom. Special Agent Monica Reed smiled once, sharp and loving all at once. Even the officer stepped back, hats in hand.