Then he heard:
“You. Gray hoodie.”
Malik looked around.
Mercer pointed.
“Come here.”
Malik lowered the phone.
“Grandma, hold on.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Mercer approached.
“Put the phone away.”
Malik hesitated.
“My grandmother is on the line.”
“I didn’t ask.”
Malik put the phone in his pocket.
Mercer looked him over.
“Where’d you come from?”
“The pharmacy.”
“Before that.”
“School.”
“What school?”
“Bellhaven Community.”
Mercer looked toward the pharmacy bag.
“What’s inside?”
“Prescription.”
“For you?”
“My grandmother.”
“Let me see it.”
Malik tightened his grip.
“Why?”
That single word changed Mercer’s expression.
Why.
Adrian had noticed it before.
Mercer hated being asked why.
To him, questions sounded like challenges.
“You got something to hide?”
“No.”
“Then hand me the bag.”
Malik looked around.
People passed without paying attention.
“Sir, I really need to catch my bus.”
Mercer stepped closer.
“You’ll catch it when we’re done.”
“What did I do?”
“There have been complaints around here.”
“About what?”
Mercer ignored the question.
“Turn around.”
Malik’s pulse increased.
“No, wait.”
“Turn around.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Mercer grabbed his shoulder.
That was when Adrian started recording.
From across the street, he activated the small camera clipped inside his jacket.
Mercer pushed Malik toward the wall.
Adrian began walking closer.
And then Mercer reached into his own pocket.
When his hand came out, the clear plastic bag was between his fingers.
Adrian stopped.
For seven months, he had been waiting for something he could prove.
He had just watched it happen.
CHAPTER TWO: “THAT ISN’T HIS”
Mercer held the bag near Malik’s face.
“Recognize this?”
Malik shook his head.
“No.”
“You dropped it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I watched you.”
Malik’s confusion turned to fear.
“You literally just pulled that out of your pocket.”
Mercer grabbed his hoodie.
“Careful.”
“I saw you!”
“Careful.”
“That’s yours!”
The accusation was louder than Malik intended.
Several people stopped.
Mercer’s expression hardened.
He slammed Malik against the wall.
“Do you want another charge?”
“For what?”
“Resisting.”
“I’m standing here!”
“Lower your voice.”
“You’re framing me!”
Adrian was now fifteen feet away.
Mercer had not noticed him.
Malik looked around desperately.
“Someone please record this.”
Nobody moved.
A woman slowed.
Mercer turned toward her.
“Keep walking.”
She did.
Adrian felt anger rise inside him.
He had spent eighteen years in law enforcement learning to control that feeling.
Anger made people careless.
Internal Affairs investigators could not afford careless.
But there were moments when procedure became cowardice.
Adrian stepped closer.
“That’s enough.”
Mercer turned.
“Excuse me?”
Adrian pointed toward Malik.
“Let go of him.”
Mercer stared.
He saw a Black man in a dark shirt.
No visible uniform.
No badge.
No reason, in his mind, to show respect.
