Derek looked toward the sound.
An unmarked black Ford Explorer turned onto Fourth Avenue with hidden lights flashing behind the grille.
It stopped across the intersection.
Chief Victor Thorpe stepped out.
Thorpe was sixty, broad-bodied, gray-haired, and known throughout the department for speaking in sentences that sounded like orders even when he was asking about lunch.
He took in the scene immediately.
Wheelchair in the crosswalk.
Broken jar.
Crowd.
Phones.
Caleb looking ill.
Derek standing apart from everyone.
Thorpe’s face became grim.
“What happened?”
Derek stepped forward.
“Chief, this got blown completely out of proportion.”
Thorpe held up a hand.
“I didn’t ask for your conclusion.”
Derek stopped.
Thorpe looked at Caleb.
“Officer Voss?”
Caleb opened his mouth.
Then hesitated.
Harlan watched him.
Derek watched too.
Caleb finally said:
“Officer Langford initiated physical contact with the civilian after a verbal dispute.”
Derek shouted:
“That is not what happened.”
Thorpe turned.
“Be quiet.”
Derek stared.
The chief walked toward Harlan.
“Sir, I’m Chief Thorpe.”
“Harlan Whitaker.”
“Are you injured?”
“My back took a significant impact when your officer pulled my wheelchair sideways.”
Thorpe looked at the chair.
Then the glass.
“Did EMS evaluate you?”
“No.”
“I’d like them to.”
Harlan considered.
“After we secure the scene.”
Thorpe’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Not in irritation.
Recognition.
That phrasing.
Secure the scene.
Not normal civilian language.
Harlan reached into his jacket.
Removed the retired credential wallet.
Opened it.
Thorpe stared.
Then looked at Harlan again.
“I know that name.”
“Do you?”
Thorpe read the identification.
His jaw tightened.
“Former SAC Whitaker.”
“Yes.”
Thorpe closed his eyes briefly.
“This day keeps getting worse.”
Harlan almost smiled.
“For one of us.”
Thorpe looked at Derek.
Derek immediately began:
“Chief, he never identified himself.”
Thorpe’s face transformed.
“What?”
“He never said he was FBI.”
Thorpe stared at him.
Derek continued quickly.
“If I had known who he was, obviously I would have handled it differently.”
Thorpe stepped closer.
“Say that again.”
Derek realized too late.
“I mean—”
“You would have handled it differently if you knew he was federal?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It is exactly what you said.”
Thorpe’s voice rose.
“You think the problem is you picked the wrong man to bully?”
“Chief—”
“You were supposed to handle him lawfully whether he was a retired FBI executive or a man who spent last night sleeping under a bridge.”
Derek’s mouth closed.
Thorpe turned toward Lila.
“You were recording?”
“Most of it.”
“Will you preserve the original file?”
“Yes.”
“Do not edit it.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not send me the only copy.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Thorpe looked toward Caleb.
“Body camera?”
“Mine is active.”
“And his?”
Caleb looked at Derek.