Regina didn't move. She planted her feet on the lawn, phone steady now, recording everything. Mason's face, the taser, the three officers boxing her husband in against the garage door. "You don't get to point that at him," she said.
"He hasn't done anything." Mason didn't even look at her. His eyes stayed locked on Francis, and something about that, the way he refused to acknowledge a terrified woman ten feet away, made the whole scene feel colder. "This is what happens," Mason said loud enough for the street.
"When people think they're above the law, think their nice house and nice car means the rules don't apply to them." Francis felt the words land somewhere deep, somewhere old. He'd heard versions of this sentence his whole life, but he kept his face still, kept his voice level. "I'm not above anything," Francis said.
"I'm a man standing in his own driveway. Save it." Mason stepped closer. Close enough now that Francis could see the taser's red dot tracking against his chest.
Bellamy moved in tighter on the left. Even Puren had drifted closer from the cruiser, though his face had gone pale, his jaw tight like he was chewing on something he couldn't swallow. Only Grayson hesitated, glancing toward Regina's phone, toward the neighbors, now spilling off their porches onto the grass to watch. Mason smiled.
It wasn't a kind smile. It was the smile of a man who thought he'd already won. This is the lesson you should have learned three weeks ago. Mason said, "Parking lot, remember that? Thought you could talk to me like that and walk away?"
Francis's stomach dropped. So, this was never about a call. Never about a description.
This was personal, and it had been building since a parking spot outside a grocery store. The taser inched closer. Close enough now that Francis could hear it humming. That faint electric whine that meant it was armed and ready.
Regina screamed his name again, and somewhere down the street, a screen door slammed as another neighbor ran out to watch. Francis looked Mason dead in the eye, his heart hammering, but his voice flat as stone. "You sure?" Francis said quietly.
"You want to do this in front of all these people?" Mason's jaw flexed. For a second, just a second, something flickered behind his eyes. Doubt, maybe, or the first cold edge of realizing he'd gone further than he meant to.
But pride is a hard thing to walk back from in front of an audience, and Mason wasn't about to be the one who blinked first. "Don't try that with me," he said. "Don't act like you got something to threaten me with." Francis held his ground, hands still open, still raised just enough to show he wasn't reaching for trouble.
His voice came out slow and steady. The same voice he used in interrogation rooms when a suspect was one wrong word from losing everything. "I'm not threatening you," Francis said. "I'm asking you to think about what you're doing."