“I’m standing.”
“You stand like you’re brooding.”
Darius looked over.
She wore socks and one of his old Northwestern sweatshirts.
“Cold?”
“No.”
“Then why are you wearing my sweatshirt?”
“It’s mine now.”
He smiled.
Camille leaned against the column.
“Something happened here.”
Darius looked toward the street.
She continued:
“The driveway camera is new.”
“It isn’t.”
“The extra camera is.”
Darius said nothing.
“You check the street every time a car slows.”
She watched him.
“And there’s a scratch on your wrist.”
Almost gone.
But she had seen it.
Darius sighed.
“Come inside.”
They sat at the kitchen table.
He told her.
Not every investigative detail.
Not the names of complainants.
Enough.
Patrol unit.
Questions.
Search.
Cuffs.
Credential.
Investigation.
Camille listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she stared at the table.
“How long?”
“About an hour from first contact to federal response.”
“You were handcuffed?”
“Yes.”
“At our house?”
“Yes.”
“Because they thought you didn’t live here?”
“It became more than that.”
“It started there.”
“Yes.”
Camille looked toward the living room.
“Did you tell them you were FBI?”
“Eventually they found out.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Darius took time.
“Because I knew the unit.”
“So you let them?”
“No.”
She looked angry.
“You let them search your car.”
“I told them not to.”
“But you could’ve stopped it.”
“Maybe.”
“With the badge.”
“Probably.”
Camille stood.
“That’s stupid.”
Darius did not defend himself.
Her eyes filled.
“You’re all I have.”
The sentence struck harder than anything Ror had done.
Darius looked down.
Camille continued:
“Mom is gone.”
“I know.”
“So you don’t get to turn yourself into evidence.”
He closed his eyes.
“That is fair.”
“Fair?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all?”
“No.”
He stood.
“I’m sorry.”
Camille looked away.
Darius said:
“I made a professional calculation while standing inside something personal.”
She wiped at one eye angrily.
“That sounds like FBI language.”
“It probably is.”
“Try again.”
Darius breathed.
“I should have thought more about you.”
Camille looked at him.
“That’s better.”
“I wasn’t trying to be brave.”
“I know.”
“I genuinely believed I could control the risk.”
“You couldn’t.”
“No.”
Silence.
Then Camille hugged him.
Hard.
Darius held her.