Two police cruisers entered the parking area.
Jeremiah's heart pounded.
The cars stopped.
Two officers stepped out.
One was tall and broad-shouldered. The other was younger, with a hand resting near his equipment belt.
The tall officer approached.
"What's going on?"
The woman immediately stepped forward.
"This boy has been loitering here for a long time. He refused to leave when I confronted him."
Jeremiah opened his mouth.
"I—"
"We'll talk to you in a minute," the officer said.
Jeremiah closed his mouth.
The woman continued.
"He was watching people."
"I wasn't," Jeremiah said.
The officer looked at him.
"What's your name?"
"Jeremiah Carter."
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"Why are you here?"
"I'm waiting for my mother."
The officer glanced toward the woman.
She shook her head.
"He keeps saying that."
Jeremiah felt anger rising.
But he remembered his mother's voice.
Control your emotions, Jeremiah. Not because you're wrong. Because you need to get home safely.
He swallowed.
"My mom is coming."
"What's her name?"
"Elena Carter."
The officer typed something into his phone.
"Where does she work?"
Jeremiah hesitated.
"City Hall."
The woman suddenly laughed.
"City Hall?"
Jeremiah looked at her.
"Yes."
"That's convenient."
He didn't answer.
The officer looked at him again.
"Do you have identification?"
"It's in my backpack."
"Can you get it?"
Jeremiah slowly reached toward the backpack.
The officer raised a hand.
"Slowly."
Jeremiah froze.
He carefully opened the bag.
His fingers trembled.
And then the sound of tires screeching across pavement shattered the afternoon.
Everyone turned.
A black SUV came flying into the park entrance.
It stopped near the officers.
The driver's door opened.
A woman stepped out.
She was dressed in a dark navy suit, her hair pulled neatly behind her shoulders.
She moved quickly.
Her face was calm.
But her eyes were furious.
Jeremiah recognized her immediately.
"Mom."
Elena Carter looked at her son.
Then at the police officers.
Then at the woman who had called 911.
Something in Elena's expression changed.
The mayor of Oakwood had arrived.
And she had just discovered why police officers were questioning her son.
The Mayor Arrives
Elena Carter had spent most of her adult life learning how to remain composed under pressure.
As mayor, she had faced angry protesters, budget crises, political opponents, emergency meetings, and reporters asking questions designed to make her lose her temper.
She had survived all of them.
But seeing her seventeen-year-old son standing between two police officers was different.
Her heartbeat accelerated.
"Jeremiah," she said softly.
"I'm okay, Mom."
That answer frightened her more than panic would have.
Elena walked toward him.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Did anyone touch you?"
"No."
She nodded.
Only then did she turn toward the officers.
"Officer."
The taller officer looked surprised.
"Mayor Carter?"
Elena's eyes narrowed.
"Yes."
The younger officer immediately straightened.
The woman who had called the police stared at Elena.
Then she looked at Jeremiah.
Then back at Elena.
"You know him?"
Elena's expression was cold.
"He's my son."
Silence.
The woman's face changed.
Her certainty disappeared almost instantly.
The officer looked at his notes.
"Ma'am, we received a complaint about a suspicious teenager."
"I understand."
Elena looked at the woman.
"Did you tell the dispatcher that my son was dangerous?"
"I—I said he was behaving suspiciously."
"What exactly did he do?"
The woman opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Elena waited.
"What exactly did he do?"
"He was sitting there."
Elena glanced at Jeremiah.
"Doing what?"
"Reading," Jeremiah said.
The woman quickly interrupted.
"He was watching people."
"Was he threatening anyone?"
"No."
"Touching anyone?"
"No."
"Damaging property?"
"No."
"Breaking any law?"
The woman hesitated.
"I don't know."
Elena nodded slowly.
"Then why did you call the police?"
The woman looked uncomfortable.
"I was concerned."
"About what?"
"I can't explain it."
"You already did."
Elena's voice remained quiet.
"You described him as a suspicious Black teenager."
The woman's cheeks reddened.
"I didn't mean—"
"But you said it."
Jeremiah stood silently.
He watched his mother carefully.
He knew that expression.
It was the expression she used when she was furious but refusing to let anger control her.
The tall officer cleared his throat.
"Mayor Carter, we understand your concern."
"My concern isn't special because I'm mayor."