The dispatcher's voice came back flat and business-like. Stand by. Nobody moved. Bellamy wouldn't meet anyone's eyes.
Grayson stared at his own boots. Puren's hand had found its way to his chest like he was trying to keep his own heart from hammering its way out. Francis lowered his badge, but kept it in plain view, his eyes never leaving Mason's face. Whenever you're ready, officer, Francis said quietly.
I've got all morning. The radio crackled again after what felt like an hour, but was only minutes. "Confirmed," the dispatcher said. "Francis Willard, Special Agent, FBI field office downtown. Badge number checks out."
The words landed on the driveway like a verdict. Mason lowered the taser. Slow, like his arm didn't want to obey him anymore.
He clipped the safety back into place and clipped it to his belt without looking at it, his face flushing red in front of the whole street. Nobody clapped, nobody cheered, but the air changed, the tightness in it finally breaking, and Francis felt his own shoulders drop an inch for the first time in 15 minutes. "Well," Mason said, forcing the words out like they tasted bad. "Guess there was a misunderstanding."
"A misunderstanding," Francis repeated flatly. Mason didn't apologize. Not really.
He mumbled something close to it, eyes everywhere but on Francis's face, and then turned to wave Bellamy and Grayson back toward the cruisers. Puren lingered a second longer than the others, glancing at Francis with something unreadable in his face before he turned away, too. Regina lowered her phone, hands shaking, and crossed the lawn to stand beside her husband. She didn't say anything.
She just gripped his arm hard, like she needed to feel he was still solid, still standing, still hers. A second cruiser pulled up a few minutes later, lights off this time. Captain Aaron Vanji stepped out, her uniform crisp, her expression already tight, with the kind of practiced concern that came from years of cleaning up other people's messes. She'd heard the dispatch call.
She'd come straight from home. "Agent Willard." She extended a hand. "I am so sorry about this. This isn't how we conduct ourselves."
Francis shook it, but his eyes stayed steady, measuring her. "Four officers, taser drawn, in my own driveway." "I understand," Vanji said. "And I promise you this will be reviewed thoroughly, by the book."
By the book. Francis had heard that phrase plenty of times in his career, usually right before a book got rewritten to protect somebody. "I'd like that in writing," Francis said. "And I'd like Officer Mason's full report submitted alongside mine."
Vanji nodded, her jaw tight. "You'll have it. I give you my word." She walked off to speak with Mason, her voice dropping low, and Francis watched the exchange from a distance.