“You. What’s in the case?”

He paused. “I told you. Ceremonial sabers.”

“Open it.”

“No, ma’am. I’m responsible for the case until the lieutenant gets here.”

“You’re refusing to cooperate?”

“I’m keeping a promise.”

“Where did you get these weapons?”

“From a police lieutenant, in the parking lot, less than an hour ago.”

“A man handed you swords in a parking lot. Do you hear how that sounds?”

Quentin shifted the extension cord to his other hand. “I hear how you’re making it sound.”

Behind the phone, Candace’s expression changed. She had been waiting for a response she could call disrespectful.

“Do not get smart with me. I’m trying to keep this area safe.”

“Then let me go finish setting up my sister’s wedding.”

“You’ll stay right here.”

“I’m not going anywhere, ma’am. My sister’s getting married.”

He stepped around her and continued toward the pavilion. There was no threat in the sentence. His voice had been tired, slightly amused, and honest. Candace let him go only because she had heard the one fragment she could use: *I’m not going anywhere.*

On the livestream she repeated it in a different tone.

“You see? I asked a reasonable question, and he told me he wasn’t going anywhere. He’s put a weapons case in the boathouse and refuses to open it.”

Lorna watched him disappear behind the flowering shrubs. She had recorded the exchange from the side, including the moment Candace had ordered him to stay. The two videos would tell very different stories. She understood that much, though she was not yet ready to say it aloud.

“Candace,” she said, “you know what he meant.”

“Do you want to take responsibility if something happens?”

The question cornered Lorna. She was not sure what *something* meant, but she could hear the familiar bargain: agree with Candace or accept blame for consequences that did not yet exist.

“I want us to leave these people alone,” she said.

Candace looked at her as if betrayed. Then she turned away and dialed a number.

Chapter 15: The Call at 4:10

The emergency dispatcher who answered Candace’s call had spent the previous hour directing traffic around a holiday accident on the county road. Her voice was calm when she asked for the address.

Candace gave the park location and said she needed officers immediately.

“What’s happening there, ma’am?” the dispatcher asked.

“There’s an armed group taking over the pavilion.”

The word *armed* changed the cadence of the conversation.

“Armed with what?”

“Swords. A whole case of swords. A large Black man carried them into the boathouse.”

The dispatcher asked whether Candace had seen the contents of the case.

“He told me they were swords. He locked them up and refused to let anybody check.”

“Has anyone been hurt?”

“Not yet.”

“Has anyone threatened you?”

Candace looked toward the pavilion. Quentin was moving among the chairs. Rowan had his back turned, helping a guest carry a cooler. Bethany was standing close to her mother. It was an ordinary scene, and for half a second Candace hesitated.

Then she said, “Yes. He threatened me. He told me to stay right where I was. He was aggressive.”

“How many people are in the group?”

“Thirty or forty. They keep arriving in buses. There are children down here, little ones.”

“Are the children with the group?”

“It’s a public swimming area. There could be children anywhere.”

The dispatcher repeated the question. Candace changed her answer.

“Yes, children are here. I can see the area from where I’m standing. Please hurry.”

The dispatcher instructed her to stay away from the group and advised that officers were being sent. Candace thanked her in a trembling voice she found suddenly easy to produce. She ended the call and looked at Lorna.