Kim stepped closer. “Davis.”
“What?”
“We’re not inventing evidence.”
“I’m not inventing anything.”
“You just suggested a flash drive is stolen bank data without opening it, without a complaint, and without any basis except that he has it.”
Davis turned red. “I’m trying to control the scene.”
“The scene is controlled.”
Around them, phones recorded.
Jamal stood with both hands open and tears on his face.
The scene had never been uncontrolled.
Only the adults had been.
Davis put the flash drive down. “Fine. Let’s get his mother down here.”
“She’s working at Mercy Rehabilitation,” Jamal said. “But the bank has her signature already.”
Bradley shook his head. “A signature can be forged.”
Jamal stared at him. “Is there anything I can show you that you won’t say is fake?”
The question changed the room.
It was not loud.
That made it harder to ignore.
Bradley looked away first.
Officer Kim took out his notebook. “Mr. Hutchinson, I need your bank fraud contact and whatever internal reference confirms that incoming wire.”
“I told you, the fraud desk didn’t answer.”
“Call again.”
“I don’t appreciate being instructed how to run my bank.”
“And I don’t appreciate being asked to detain a child because you don’t like what your own computer says.”
Davis stepped between them. “Enough. We can sort this at the station.”
Jamal’s head snapped toward him. “What?”
“We’ll contact your mother, take the documents, and let detectives verify.”
“I didn’t commit a crime.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“You don’t know I did.”
Davis reached for his handcuffs.
The sound of metal leaving the holder was small.
Jamal heard it like thunder.
“No.”
His voice cracked.
Davis said, “Turn around.”
“Please.”
“Turn around.”
“I’m thirteen.”
“Then stop making this harder.”
Jamal looked toward Kim.
Not because he knew him.
Because Kim was the only adult in the room who had asked a question and waited for the answer.
Kim stepped between Davis and the boy.
“No.”