Arthur picked it up.
He knew exactly whom to call.
The number was stored in his memory.
He dialed.
One ring.
Two.
Then someone answered.
"Hayes."
Arthur's expression changed almost imperceptibly.
"Tom."
Silence.
The voice on the other end became alert.
"Director?"
Arthur looked around the room.
"I've been detained."
"What?"
"I'm at the Bethesda precinct."
"Are you injured?"
"No."
"Who has you?"
Arthur glanced at Rollins.
"Local officers."
"Why?"
Arthur took a breath.
"I'll explain later. I need you to verify my location and send counsel."
Hayes was silent for a moment.
"Understood."
"And Tom?"
"Yes?"
"Do not let anyone turn this into a confrontation."
Arthur looked toward Rollins again.
"Bring Internal Affairs."
Hayes understood.
"How serious?"
Arthur answered quietly.
"Serious enough."
The call ended.
Arthur returned the phone.
Rollins folded his arms.
"Who was that?"
"A colleague."
"Name?"
Arthur didn't answer.
Rollins leaned closer.
"You don't get to play games here."
Arthur looked at him.
"I'm not playing games."
Omali felt the atmosphere change.
He had worked long enough to recognize a person who knew exactly what he was doing.
Arthur wasn't frightened.
He wasn't trying to impress anyone.
He seemed to be documenting everything.
The time.
The names.
The sequence.
The questions.
The actions.
Everything.
Omali turned toward Rollins.
"Put him in holding."
Rollins nodded.
As Arthur walked toward the cell, Miller quietly followed.
"Sir."
Arthur stopped.
Miller lowered his voice.
"I'm sorry."
Arthur looked at him.
"For what?"
Miller glanced toward Rollins.
"For how this started."
Arthur studied him.
"Then remember exactly what happened."
Miller swallowed.
"I will."
The cell door closed.
Arthur sat down.
He looked at the ceiling.
For the first time that morning, he allowed himself to feel angry.
Not because he had been handcuffed.
Not because he had been humiliated.
But because the incident represented something larger.
A police officer had seen a Black man standing outside an expensive house and decided that the most logical explanation was criminal activity.
Arthur had spent his entire career fighting the consequences of assumptions like that.
Now he was sitting inside a holding cell because of one.
He closed his eyes.
Across town, Thomas Hayes was already making calls.
By noon, the atmosphere inside the precinct had changed.
Officers who had barely noticed Arthur's arrest were now hearing fragments of conversation.
Someone had called the station asking for Sergeant Omali.
Then someone else called asking about the prisoner in holding.
Then another call came through from a number nobody recognized.
The dispatcher looked nervous.
"Sergeant?"
Omali approached.
"What?"
"There's a federal office asking about one of our detainees."
"Which one?"
She lowered her voice.
"The man Rollins brought in."
Omali stared at her.
"Who?"
"The federal office won't give details."
Before Omali could respond, the phone rang again.
This time, he answered personally.
"Sergeant Omali."
A calm voice replied.
"This is Deputy Director Thomas Hayes."
Omali froze.
"Of the FBI?"
"Yes."
Omali looked through the glass toward Arthur's cell.
Hayes continued.
"I need to speak with your commanding officer."
Omali swallowed.
"He's currently unavailable."
"Then find him."
The call ended.
Omali stood motionless.
Behind him, Rollins approached.
"Who was that?"
Omali stared at him.
"Did you run that man's name?"
Rollins shrugged.
"Not completely."
"Why?"
"Because he didn't have identification."
Omali's expression hardened.
"Run the address."
Rollins hesitated.
"Sergeant—"
"Now."
Rollins walked toward the computer.
He entered the address.
The system returned a property record.
Then another database opened.
Rollins's face slowly changed.
Miller saw it.
"What?"
Rollins didn't answer.
"What does it say?"
Rollins stared at the screen.
The property was registered to Arthur Pendleton.
That alone wasn't shocking.
But another database produced information that made Miller step backward.