Three citizen complaints in twenty-two months.
None sustained.
One involved an unjustified stop.
Another alleged excessive force.
The third concerned discriminatory treatment during a property dispute.
Simone had not yet reviewed the underlying evidence.
Now she was beginning to understand why she remembered his name.
She looked toward the house across the street.
Elaine Mercer stood behind her front window.
Watching.
Simone's eyes narrowed.
"Was Elaine Mercer the caller?"
Callahan's expression changed.
"How do you know who called?"
"Because she has questioned whether I belong here before."
"You don't need to worry about the caller."
"I'm not worried about her."
Callahan stepped closer.
"I said show me identification."
Simone remained calm.
"I've told you where it is."
"Step off the lawn."
She almost laughed.
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"You want the homeowner to leave her property because someone says the homeowner looks suspicious?"
"I'm conducting an investigation."
"Then investigate."
Callahan clenched his jaw.
Price spoke quietly.
"Brent, I can run the deed."
Callahan shot him a warning look.
"I said I've got it."
Simone heard the words carefully.
"I suggest you let him."
Callahan stared at her.
"I suggest you stop giving orders."
"I'm giving you an easy exit."
His face hardened.
And Simone realized the encounter had stopped being about uncertainty.
It had become about control.
The Hose
Callahan moved toward the side of the driveway.
Simone watched him.
At first, she thought he was reaching for his radio.
Instead, his hand closed around the green garden hose connected to the outdoor faucet.
She stared.
"What are you doing?"
Callahan twisted the nozzle.
Water burst across the driveway.
"Move toward the sidewalk."
Simone's expression hardened.
"Put the hose down."
"Last warning."
Price stepped forward.
"Brent, come on."
Callahan ignored him.
Simone took one step toward the house.
The stream hit her across the chest.
Cold water soaked through her blouse instantly.
She stumbled backward, lost her footing on the wet grass, and fell onto her hip.
Someone shouted from across the street.
Price froze.
Callahan kept spraying.
"Move!"
Simone raised an arm over her face.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Off the lawn!"
"This is my property!"
The hose struck her shoulder again.
Her dark hair loosened from its bun. Water ran down her face and jeans. One flat slipped halfway off her foot.
Then phones appeared.
A teenager across the street started recording.
A middle-aged man stepped from his porch.
"She lives there!"
Callahan swung around.
"Stay back!"
The man stopped.
But he kept recording.
Simone pushed herself onto one knee.
"Turn it off."
Callahan kept the stream aimed at the grass.
"Get onto the sidewalk."
Simone looked at Price.
"Officer Price."
He looked at her.
"Please turn off the water."
Price swallowed.
He knew.
Something was wrong.
Not merely because she lived there.
Not merely because Callahan's actions were excessive.
Because the scene was becoming indefensible.
"Brent," he said again. "We should stop."
Callahan looked at him.
"You questioning me?"
Price said nothing.
Simone rose slowly.
She was soaked.
Embarrassed.
Angry.
But beneath the anger was something colder.
Professional instinct.
She knew this kind of moment.
The kind people later described as a misunderstanding.
The kind that disappeared behind incomplete reports.
The kind that became impossible to prove when nobody recorded it.
Except today, people were recording.
Simone looked around.
Five phones.
Then six.
A doorbell camera across the street.
A security camera mounted on the house beside hers.
A teenager holding his phone with both hands.
A woman standing on a porch.
And Elaine Mercer behind the window.
Simone suddenly understood.
Elaine hadn't merely called the police.
She had been waiting for this.
The Camera
Callahan finally shut off the hose.
"You're being detained."
Simone stared at him.
"For what?"
"Interfering with an investigation."
"I've done nothing except answer your questions."
"Turn around."