This one was black.
A city seal appeared on the front door.
Officer Grant recognized it first.
Then Hargrove.
Then Priya.
Isaiah groaned.
“Oh, no.”
Terrence looked down.
“What?”
“She brought the city car.”
Terrence smiled.
“Your mother is very angry.”
“That is not funny.”
The driver stopped beside the patrol vehicles.
The rear passenger door opened.
Dr. Camille Reed stepped out wearing a navy suit, low heels, and the identification badge she had forgotten to remove when leaving City Hall. At forty-four, Camille was midway through her second term as mayor of Elmwood, the first Black woman elected to lead the city. Most residents knew her face from community meetings, school events, local television, and the photographs hanging inside municipal buildings.
Lorraine recognized her immediately.
So did nearly everyone else.
Conversation died.
Camille did not approach the officers first.
She went to Isaiah.
She crouched in front of him.
“Look at me.”
He did.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did anyone touch you?”
“No.”
She studied his face.
“You look like you want to cry.”
Isaiah’s lip tightened.
“Mom.”
“That’s okay.”
“I’m not crying.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
That almost did it.
Isaiah looked down.
Camille pulled him into a hug.
For several seconds, the mayor did not exist.
There was only a mother holding a seven-year-old boy who had spent the last twenty minutes wondering why adults thought his backpack might contain evidence of a crime.
Then Camille stood.
“What happened?”
Officer Vega answered first.
“We responded to a suspicious-person call concerning someone going door to door.”
Camille looked toward Isaiah.
“Someone?”
Vega understood.
“A child.”
“What suspicious behavior was reported?”
“Looking at houses and walking from property to property.”
“And what did you determine?”
“That he’s distributing verified school fundraising flyers.”
“How long did verification take?”
Grant answered.
“About two minutes after we checked the website.”
Camille nodded.
“How long has he been standing here?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Hargrove did.
“Longer than that.”
Camille looked at him.
“Why?”
Hargrove could have defended himself.
Instead, he looked toward Lorraine.
“The complainant continued raising concerns.”
Camille’s expression changed.
“So after confirming my son was doing exactly what he said he was doing, he remained under scrutiny because the caller remained uncomfortable.”
Hargrove did not answer.
Terrence folded his arms.
Isaiah stared at his shoes.
Camille turned toward Lorraine.
“You called?”
Lorraine swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Why?”