A jagged crack in the sidewalk, white against gray.
Four things I can touch.
Bass’s silky ear beneath my fingers.
The firm pressure of his paw on my foot.
The crisp cotton of Erik’s shirt sleeve brushing my arm.
The cool stone beneath my shoes.
My breath starts to slow.
I stay where I am.
Chapter eighty-two
Remy
I want to hit him. The urge is sharp and immediate.
I step back instead, positioning myself behind him, and lift my phone to record. Evidence matters.
He’s average height, wiry, but beside Tianna he’s taking up too much space. He knows it. He’s using it.
Erik is already dialing 911.
The back gate into the park felt private. It isn’t. That won’t happen again.
My attention cuts back to Tianna. Pale. Shoulders tight. Breath shallow.
The police are pulling up on the path before Erik’s call connects.
“What is going on here? We received a call about trespassing and harassment?” a female officer approaches.
Erik disconnects after a murmured “the police are here.”
The female officer approaches Tianna, glancing warily at Bass.
“Ma’am, if you could step over here and explain to me what is happening.” Her voice is kind but firm.
Tianna blinks, focuses on the officer, and moves toward her. Bass whimpers and pulls to follow.
The little shit whines, “I have it all on video. They assaulted me. I’m recording you. I know my rights.”
He’s making this easy for us. Pissing Off Cops 101.
“Yes, sir, so are we,” the approaching officer says, gesturing to his body cam. “We’ll review your footage shortly.”
His gaze shifts to me. “And yours, sir.”
“What?” The reporter whips around. “I didn’t give you permission to record me.”
“Sir,” the officer says to me, “if you can wait here, I’ll speak with you next.”
I nod and lower my phone. “I’ll be right here.”
The officer nods and turns back to the reporter, who’s still sputtering about rights.
