Constance made a displeased sound. "These people always think the rules are optional."
Michelle heard it, as did Darnell. The comment was vague enough that Constance could later claim she had meant criminals, outsiders, or anyone else. In that moment, however, everyone understood the direction of her eyes. Lydia turned her head toward the older woman.
"Which people?" she asked.
Constance said nothing. Hawkins answered for her. "People who don't belong where they're trying to go."
A teenager standing beside her mother near a mailbox spoke up. "But how do you know she doesn't belong?"
Her mother touched her shoulder, wanting her to stop. The question carried anyway. For a moment Hawkins seemed unable to decide whether he was more offended by Lydia's composure or by a young girl expecting him to justify himself.
"I don't need to explain police work to a child," he said.
"You haven't explained it to anybody," Darnell replied quietly. His phone remained steady.
Hawkins holstered his weapon, but the gesture was not an admission that he had overreacted. It allowed him to reach for his handcuffs. "Turn around," he ordered Lydia. "You're under arrest for trespassing and attempted breaking and entering."
Michelle took a step forward. "Chief, we haven't established that an offense occurred."
"The offense occurred when she tried that door."
"With an issued key, according to her."
"According to her," he repeated mockingly. "Are you the suspect's lawyer now, Park?"
Lydia could see Michelle struggling to hold her ground. She knew something of that conflict. Organizational cultures were revealed in moments when a person below the top of the hierarchy had to decide whether an order deserved obedience. Michelle had not yet chosen outright resistance, but her questions were already more than most people nearby had dared.
"I will cooperate," Lydia said. "I want the record to reflect that I have offered official identification and that neither officer has examined it."
"You don't get to write the record," Hawkins said.
"No," Lydia replied. "But other people are making one."
She looked briefly across the street toward Darnell's phone. The chief followed her gaze and saw several devices raised along the curb. Instead of stopping to reassess, he appeared to embrace the attention. He stepped behind Lydia and closed the cuffs around her wrists, drawing them tighter than necessary before leading her down the porch steps.
Metal pressed against her skin. A small adjustment of her hands caused the cuffs to bite, so she stopped moving them. She had advised colleagues on the physical and psychological consequences of restraint; knowing those consequences in theory did not remove the humiliation of experiencing them in front of strangers. She concentrated on the sound of her own breathing and on the fact that any attempt to pull away would only give Hawkins the resistance he seemed determined to find.