He forced himself to relax. The surveillance photos on his phone could wait. The recorded conversations documenting Mitchell's racist rants could wait. "You're right," he said, pulling his wife close. "Today, I'm just Dad."
But as they walked across the grass to start the treasure hunt, James's phone buzzed. Without thinking, he glanced at the screen, and his blood turned to ice.
HANDLER: Mitchell's unit just received a dispatch to your location. Anonymous noise complaint filed 20 minutes ago. This wasn't random. Your cover may be blown. Abort if necessary.
James looked around the peaceful celebration. Children laughing. Parents chatting. He realized with crystalline clarity that they had been set up. Someone in the Baltimore Police Department knew exactly who he was.
The sound of police sirens in the distance made his decision for him. He slipped the phone into his pocket and walked calmly toward his son. "Marcus, come here, buddy."
Before he could reach him, three police cruisers rounded the corner, entering the park with unmistakable aggressive intent.
Lieutenant Sarah Mitchell stepped out of her patrol car like a predator who had cornered her prey. Her boots hit the asphalt with deliberate force. Officers Barnes and Cruz flanked her, their hands resting on their weapons.
"Well, well, well. Look what we have here," Mitchell announced, her voice echoing across the suddenly quiet pavilion. Parents instinctively pulled their children closer. "Anonymous complaint about noise violations and illegal gathering. Funny how you people always seem to think the rules don't apply."