"Sir, I have a possible impersonator," Perkins managed. "She claims to be a military general."
"Deputy, Major General Grace Elizabeth Monroe is the scheduled keynote speaker at that event," Holloway replied. "Her identity and attendance are confirmed by the Army and the organizers. Colonel Barrett is nearby and will provide direct identification. Is she in handcuffs?"
Perkins glanced at Grace as though she might disappear if he looked away. "Yes, sir."
"On what verified basis?"
"The identification looked questionable," he said.
"What specific feature was questionable?"
Perkins did not answer. He looked down at the damaged shoulder boards, and then at Fielding, who stood motionless beside the cruiser. The young deputy met his eyes and looked away. Perkins swallowed hard, suddenly aware that every explanation he had used for the past fifteen minutes had become smaller than the evidence available to contradict it.
Holloway spoke again, slower this time. "The general has been verified. Arrange immediate supervisory review of the detention, remove the restraints unless you have an independent lawful basis for holding her, and preserve all recordings and physical evidence. Your sheriff's command staff has been contacted. Colonel Barrett is arriving shortly."
"I understand," Perkins whispered.
"Please confirm the general is not injured," Holloway said. "I want to hear from her directly when the restraints are removed."
Perkins had wanted a crowd. Now he had one, and the entire crowd could hear him struggling to answer. He unlocked the handcuffs with hands that shook enough to make the key slip once. Grace lowered her arms carefully, flexing her fingers as feeling returned to her wrists. The marks were visible against her skin, and Judith Bell's recording caught them clearly.
"General Monroe?" the voice on the radio asked.
"I'm here, sir," Grace replied. "I am safe enough to remain at the event. I have damage to my uniform and some soreness in my wrists, and I intend to make a complete statement."
"Understood," Holloway answered. "Your staff is on its way. We'll make sure the proper civilian authorities review the incident."
The call ended. Perkins stared at the radio as though a stranger had taken it apart and put it back together incorrectly. He reached toward Grace, perhaps intending to help her, but she stepped away before he could touch her. He lowered his hand. Across the square, several volunteers began speaking at once, the sound rising after the strange silence of the radio call.
"I told you she was the speaker," Walter Sykes said. His voice was tired rather than triumphant. "I told you while you were doing it."
Perkins opened his mouth. "Sir, I was acting on a concern."
"You were acting on a feeling," Walter replied. "You had a program and an ID and a dozen people willing to tell you the truth. You didn't want any of it."
Fielding heard the exchange and felt something inside him settle with sickening certainty. He had arrived, seen the damaged insignia, and recognized the possibility that the woman was exactly who she said she was. He had even asked Perkins about verification. Then he had stood by as she was handcuffed and dragged across the square, telling himself that a junior deputy was not responsible for an older colleague's mistakes.