Prescott hesitated.
“Subject refusing identification during investigation.”
Another pause.
“Do you have a related call number?”
Prescott looked at Malcolm.
“Negative. Self-initiated.”
Malcolm’s expression did not change.
But inside, something clicked into place.
Self-initiated.
That did not automatically make the stop improper.
Officers could initiate investigations based on their own observations.
But it contradicted the impression Prescott had repeatedly created that he was responding to specific reports involving Malcolm.
The body camera had captured both.
Malcolm spoke quietly.
“Officer Prescott.”
Prescott looked down.
“You know my name now?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“My name is Dr. Malcolm Pierce.”
Nothing changed in Prescott’s face.
Malcolm continued.
“I’m a forensic psychiatrist at Riverside Medical Center.”
“You said that.”
“I also consult with the Metropolitan Police Department’s Psychological Services Division.”
That got a reaction.
Small.
But immediate.
Prescott’s eyes narrowed.
Malcolm did not enjoy the moment.
He did not say it like a trump card.
He said it because backup was coming, the encounter had become a detention in everything but precise legal language, and the officer needed information that might prevent further escalation.
“I conduct pre-employment and fitness-for-duty evaluations under contract for the department.”
Prescott stared.
“I don’t believe you.”
“That’s fine.”
Malcolm reached very slowly toward the side pocket of his lunch bag.
Prescott’s right hand moved.
“Stop.”
Malcolm froze.
“What are you reaching for?”
“A business card.”
“Keep your hands where I can see them.”
Malcolm placed both hands flat on his thighs.
“Then I won’t reach for it.”
Prescott stared at him.
The woman with the stroller was now openly watching.
Malcolm said:
“You can verify my identity through Psychological Services without me reaching for anything.”
Prescott looked unsettled.
“You expect me to believe you evaluate cops?”
“Yes.”
“You?”
Malcolm held his eyes.
“Yes.”
The single word carried more weight than an argument would have.
Prescott glanced at the hospital.
Then back.
“What precinct?”
“All three city districts that use the independent evaluation contract send referrals through central Psychological Services.”
“You evaluated people from the Twelfth?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I’m not discussing confidential evaluations with you.”
Prescott’s face hardened again.
“Convenient.”
“It’s professional confidentiality.”
“You said you failed three officers from my precinct.”
Malcolm shook his head.
“I said I’ve evaluated officers from your department. I have not discussed anyone’s result with you.”
Prescott paused.
The difference mattered.
Malcolm had caught himself before saying something he had no business disclosing.
“What’s the number?” Prescott asked.
“For Psychological Services?”
“Yes.”
Malcolm gave it from memory.
Prescott wrote nothing down.
He radioed instead.
“Dispatch, can you verify a Dr. Malcolm Pierce associated with department psych services?”
The answer took thirty-eight seconds.
During that time, Malcolm watched the leaves moving above the river.