bench with one hand resting instinctively, and intimidatingly, near his duty belt.
Damon noticed the young officer's pace before anything else. It wasn't a hurried walk
to address an emergency. It wasn't a cautious approach to assess a dangerous situation. It
was possessive. Caldwell approached as though the bench, the walking path, and every
civilian standing within fifty feet had become his personal property the exact moment his
boots hit the pavement.
"Afternoon," Damon said, his voice mild and completely unbothered as the officer loomed
over them.
Caldwell stopped directly in front of the bench, planting his feet in a wide,
authoritative stance. He completely ignored the greeting.
"What's in the bag?" he demanded.
Kelvin looked down at the black duffel resting between them, then back up at the
officer. "Personal property."
"That wasn't my question," Caldwell snapped, annoyed by the lack of immediate
deference.
"It was the answer," Kelvin replied evenly.
Caldwell's eyes narrowed. He was used to civilians stammering, apologizing, or
quickly attempting to explain themselves. This calm refusal to play his game was
infuriating. "Who does the bag belong to?"
Damon kept his voice perfectly steady. "It's ours."
"What are you doing here?"
"Sitting in a public park," Damon said, offering a faint, almost pitying smile.
The officer stared down at him. Damon could see the mental calculation beginning
behind Caldwell's eyes. Caldwell had expected nervousness. He had wanted an apology or
an immediate submission to his authority. Calm, logical answers disturbed him because
they did not conform to the narrative he had already scripted in his head before stepping
out of his vehicle.
Frustrated by Damon's stoicism, Caldwell shifted his aggressive focus toward Kelvin. "You
have identification?"
Kelvin leaned back slightly against the wooden slats of the bench. "Are we suspected
of committing a crime?"
"I asked whether you have identification," Caldwell repeated, his volume rising.
"And I asked why you need it."
A few yards away, a woman pushing a stroller slowed her pace on the walking path. A
passing jogger removed one earbud and stopped to watch. Caldwell noticed the growing
audience, but instead of becoming more careful, his ego flared. He became determined not
to appear uncertain in front of the public.
"We received a report about suspicious activity near the playground," Caldwell lied
smoothly.
Damon glanced toward the children playing in the distance. "What activity?"
"Two men watching families and carrying a large bag," Caldwell said.