Angela recognized the choreography of intimidation. Keep the subject focused on discomfort, keep witnesses uncertain about what is happening, and let the uniform itself substitute for an explanation. She also recognized its weakness: the officers were speaking within range of multiple independent cameras, and their actions could later be compared with the records that had led them there. She steadied herself, turned her head carefully toward Griggs, and asked whether she could use her phone to contact her husband and an attorney.
Griggs laughed. "Your husband? You think he's coming down here to rescue you?"
"I think he's entitled to know where I am," Angela replied. "And I would like to make that call without anybody mistaking a phone for a weapon."
Holt considered her for a moment, apparently deciding a public refusal would look worse than allowing one brief conversation. He nodded curtly, and Griggs loosened one hand while keeping hold of her opposite arm. Angela moved slowly, narrated exactly what she was reaching for, and lifted the phone from her pocket. The screen reflected the patrol lights as she selected Marcus's number and pressed call.
He answered on the second ring. "Angie?"
"Marcus," she said, her voice level. "Ten cruisers on Brookside Street. They say I'm harboring a fugitive, but they won't identify anyone or show me a warrant. Captain Holt is here, and Officer Griggs has me detained outside the house."
Marcus did not respond immediately. She could hear a door close at his end, and when he spoke again his voice had changed from the warmth he used with her to the steady focus he reserved for emergencies. "Are you injured?"
"My arm hurts. I'm still standing. There are a lot of witnesses."
"Keep your movements slow. Don't get into a physical struggle, and ask for a lawyer if they question you. I'm calling Diana, and I'll get there as soon as I can."
Angela kept the connection open, but she knew the telephone was not magic. Marcus's active-duty service did not make their civilian house immune from local law enforcement, and a commanding officer in another state could not simply cancel a municipal police operation. What mattered was that someone outside the scene now knew where she was, who was directing the raid, and what the officers had claimed. Angela had learned in the Army that communication did not guarantee rescue; it reduced the chances of disappearing into someone else's version of events.
Holt seemed irritated that the call had not produced panic. "Tell your husband this is a lawful investigation," he said loudly. "If he's got a problem with it, he can take it up with the courts."
"He heard you," Angela replied. "I still do not consent to a search of my home."