“He is seven years old.”
“If there’s nothing in there, then what’s the harm?”
Isaiah’s face fell.
That was when Hargrove made the first decision he would later regret even though he did not actually search the bag.
He hesitated.
Only for several seconds.
Still, Isaiah noticed.
“So you think I stole something too?”
Hargrove looked at him.
“No.”
“Then why do you need my bag?”
Vega stepped in.
“We don’t.”
She looked toward Lorraine.
“We do not have a legal reason to search this child’s backpack.”
Lorraine flushed.
“I’m just trying to keep everybody safe.”
“From me?”
Isaiah asked.
The question came out softer than the others.
Lorraine looked at him.
For the first time, she seemed to notice his actual size.
He was seven.
Small enough that the clipboard reached from his waist almost to his chest.
A child carrying robot stickers and a granola bar.
Still, pride kept her from backing away.
“I don’t know you.”
Isaiah answered, “You could’ve asked.”
Priya looked away.
Earl slowly shook his head.
Officer Hargrove exhaled.
He was ready to conclude the contact.
Then Lorraine said, “Kids like him don’t usually come around this part of town by themselves.”
The silence was immediate.
Isaiah did not understand the sentence in exactly the same way the adults did.
That almost made it worse.
“Kids like me?”
Lorraine realized what she had said.
“I mean children who don’t live in the subdivision.”
Priya stared at her.
“You learned where he lived after calling 911.”
Lorraine’s face reddened.
“That is not what I meant.”
Earl folded his arms.
“Then what did you mean?”
Lorraine had no answer that improved the situation.
Isaiah looked down at his flyer.
He had been excited twenty minutes earlier.
Now he wanted his mother.
“Can I call my mom?”
Vega nodded.
“Absolutely.”
Isaiah pulled out a small phone his mother allowed him to carry on neighborhood walks.
She answered immediately.
“Hey, baby.”
“Mom.”
The sound of his voice changed hers.
“What happened?”
“The police came.”
Silence.
“Why?”
“A lady thinks I’m stealing houses.”
Officer Grant looked away.
Isaiah had misunderstood the exact accusation.
His mother did not care about the wording.
“Where are you?”
“Willow Crest.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did anybody touch you?”
“No.”
“Stay there.”
“Mom—”
“I’m coming.”
She ended the call.
Isaiah slipped the phone back into his pocket.
Lorraine continued talking.