“Doing what?”
“I couldn't see.”
“Harlan had turned me toward the car.”
“But Boone had possession of it?”
“Yes.”
Leland nodded.
He stood.
Nia said:
“What happened?”
He stopped.
“You'll speak to your attorney.”
“Detective.”
He looked back.
“I told you.”
“What?”
“To keep the camera running.”
His jaw tightened.
“I did.”
Then he left.
Nia sat alone.
For the first time since the arrest, hope entered.
Tiny.
Dangerous.
She did not trust it yet.
At 4:06 p.m., the booking process stopped.
No one told Nia why.
At 4:28, Malcolm met her in a consultation room.
The cuffs were gone.
He closed the door.
Nia stood immediately.
“Evan?”
“Outside.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Malcolm pulled out his phone.
“An elderly woman filmed your arrest.”
Nia stared.
He opened the video.
“Sit.”
She did not.
He pressed play.
Nia watched herself standing beside the car.
Harlan’s body blocked part of the frame.
Boone walked to the passenger door.
Reached inside.
Removed something.
Nia stopped breathing.
Then Boone approached her bag.
His hand disappeared.
Came out empty.
Twenty seconds later:
Search.
Pouch.
Jewelry.
Nia covered her mouth.
Malcolm paused.
“That’s it.”
Her eyes filled.
“I knew it.”
“I know.”
“I knew it.”
Her voice cracked.
“I know.”
She sat.
Then:
“Who filmed this?”
“Margaret Ellis.”
“I saw her.”
“She waited outside.”
“Why?”
“She didn't trust bringing the only copy directly inside.”
Nia looked at Malcolm.
For a long moment neither spoke.
Then Nia started crying.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
The kind that begins when a person’s body realizes someone else can finally verify reality.
Malcolm gave her tissues.
She laughed through tears.
“This is ridiculous.”
“No.”
“I knew what happened.”
“Yes.”
“But watching it…”
“I know.”
Nia wiped her face.
“Am I leaving?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“The department is reviewing everything.”
Malcolm leaned forward.