At the back row, I awkwardly maneuvered myself into the seat, scooting over toward the window. My shoulders already ached from the unnatural position of my bound arms, but I straightened my spine, refusing to show weakness.
Minutes passed before they loaded more detainees. Chief Banks, still in handcuffs, was guided onto the bus, his uniform dirty, but his composure remained straight, even in restraints, with blood visible from his mouth.
The soldiers pointed him toward the back, and I realized he was being seated across from me. Our eyes met as he lowered himself onto the bench seat, his broader frame making the maneuver more difficult than it had been for me. For a longmoment, we stared at each other, neither speaking. What was there to say?
The heavy doors of the bus slammed shut, and somewhere up front, someone cried. Chief Banks’s eyes never left mine, dark and unreadable in the dim interior lighting. I met his gaze, refusing to look away first. Between us, questions were unspoken, and the strange, unsettling knowledge that whatever we both thought we understood about this night had been wrong.
The bus moved forward, carrying us away from the memorial that had become a battlefield.
And toward what I couldn’t begin to imagine.
4
RONAN
My wrists hurt where the cuffs had previously pressed into them, reminding me that my badge didn’t matter right now. The protesters’ faces made it clear we weren’t united, even though we were all stuck here together. Some glared at my uniform; others looked away as if I might infect them. I understood. My uniform made me the enemy.
I looked over at Dr. Nia Price. Today she wore locs piled in a high bun with decorations on a few of them. She wore bold earrings and a vintage tee with jeans, but what I noticed most was her natural magnetism.
I saw details I had no business noticing, like the arch of her eyebrow, when she caught the guard watching her. Then her eyes found mine. I should have looked away, but I held her gaze. I could’ve been tripping, but something passed between us. She studied me with an intensity that made my pulse kick up.
“We need water,” a young man near the door commented, his voice raspy from coughing.
The guard near him didn’t bother to turn his head.
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me. These people need water. It’s been hours since the arrest,” I said in an authoritative tone I used at the precinct.
The guard looked my way, his eyes lingering on my uniform. His mouth twisted in amusement.
“Chief wants water for his new friends,” he taunted before walking away.
With the National Guard and federal authorities in charge, my authority as local law enforcement didn’t mean much. I knew trying to assert myself could bring more trouble from both the Feds and the community. The sense of failure hit hard. I could demand special treatment, pull rank, and insist on my phone call. Remind them I was the goddamn chief of police and that this detention was illegal. I could use the system to get out. Or I could stay here, sitting with everyone else, and see what it felt like when the system ignored people’s humanity.
I caught Dr. Price watching me as if trying to reconcile the man in the chief’s uniform. I didn’t look away this time either. I wanted her to see whatever she needed to see. I had nothing to hide, even if I had everything to lose.
They pushed another detainee through the door, a teenage boy. The same one I’d tried to protect when the National Guard moved in. His eye was swollen, and a bruise darkened his cheekbone. He stumbled when the guard shoved him sprawling onto the concrete floor.
I was on my feet before I knew it, but Dr. Price moved faster. She slid from the bench and kneeled beside the boy. “Let me see that eye. You’re okay, baby,” she said after examining his face.
“Back on the bench,” the guard ordered.
Dr. Price didn’t move or look up. “He’s a minor, and he’s injured,” she explained.
“Not my problem. Back on the bench, or you’ll have a matching bruise.”
I stood up and moved toward the guard as heat rose in my chest. The guard stepped out, closing the door before I reached him. Bastard!
Dr. Price helped the boy to his feet and guided him to the bench.
I couldn’t look away from her as she quietly helped him. She brought a sense of humanity to this harsh place. As I sat back down, I realized that the woman who should have been my adversary had captivated me. She felt like the first honest thing I’d seen in a long time.
Time passed, and the guards changed shifts. The new guard was younger and seemed more approachable as he brought in a box of packaged rations. People got up slowly and moved to the table. I waited for the crowd to thin, then went over. The meals were sad little crackers, cheese spread, and a small fruit cup. I took two packs and two bottles of water.
I crossed the holding area and approached Dr. Price. “Thought you might be hungry,” I offered.
Dr. Price glanced at me. One side of her mouth quirked. Not quite a smile, but an acknowledgment. “The pretty boy has manners. It must be nice being the internet’s favorite cop while the rest of us get tear-gassed,” she said. Her words came out in a slow drawl. She reached for the package, and her fingers brushed against mine. The brief contact sent a ripple through me.
There it was, the challenge I’d expected from the start. I could have walked away and ignored her words. Instead, I sat on the bench next to her, leaving enough space so we could talk privately. “The badge doesn’t make me bulletproof. It makes me a bigger target,” I said.
