“No arrests unless absolutely necessary.”
She nodded.
Adrian turned toward the lead officer.
“Name.”
The officer swallowed.
“Officer Daniel Mercer.”
“Badge number.”
Mercer gave it.
Adrian looked at the younger officer.
“You?”
“Officer Luis Ortega.”
“Who dispatched you?”
Ortega hesitated.
Mercer immediately said:
“We received a suspicious-person call.”
Adrian looked at him.
“I asked him.”
Mercer fell silent.
Ortega answered.
“Hotel security.”
“Named caller?”
“Dispatch said assistant security director.”
Adrian’s eyes shifted toward the building.
That was interesting.
Very interesting.
One of the targets in the federal investigation was connected to hotel security.
Officer Mercer tried to speak.
Adrian held up one hand.
“Do not discuss the incident with each other until your supervisor arrives.”
Mercer stared.
“You can’t order us not to speak.”
Adrian’s tone remained even.
“I’m not ordering you as your supervisor.”
“I’m preserving testimony as a federal investigator.”
Mercer looked toward the shattered Bentley.
Something in his expression changed.
Not fear of discipline.
Something closer to calculation.
Adrian noticed.
He had spent nineteen years interviewing people.
People often believed fear looked like guilt.
Not always.
Sometimes fear was simply fear.
Guilt often looked like thinking.
Mercer was thinking now.
Fast.
“Officer Mercer.”
The cop looked up.
Adrian asked:
“Did you know this hotel before today?”
Mercer’s answer came too quickly.
“No.”
Ortega looked at him.
Adrian saw that too.
The female FBI agent beside him saw it as well.
Adrian nodded.
“All right.”
The words were harmless.
Mercer did not understand why they made him feel worse.
A patrol supervisor arrived three minutes later.
Lieutenant Rachel Monroe stepped from an SUV, saw the federal agents, the shattered Bentley, her two officers, and the crowd.
Her shoulders dropped slightly.
“Someone give me the shortest possible version.”
Adrian pointed toward Ortega.
“Let him.”
Mercer turned.
“Why him?”
Monroe looked at Mercer.
“That question makes me want him to answer even more.”
Ortega swallowed.
Then explained.
Suspicious-person call.
Arrival.
Black male beside Bentley.
Officer Mercer challenged him.
Adrian said it was his vehicle.
Mercer demanded proof.
Adrian showed the keys.
Mercer believed keys could have been stolen.
Mercer ordered Adrian away.
Adrian refused.
Mercer struck the window.
Adrian produced FBI credentials.
Federal agents arrived.
Monroe looked at the broken glass.
Then at Mercer.
“You hit the car with your baton?”
Mercer straightened.
“To gain entry and verify ownership.”
Monroe stared at him.
“By breaking the window?”
“He refused access.”
“Was the vehicle locked?”
Mercer hesitated.
Adrian answered.