Holloway had no answer.
Grant walked to the cruiser.
She opened the rear door.
“Agent Reynolds.”
Jamal looked at her.
“Confirmed?”
“Yes.”
“Remove the cuffs.”
“Yes, sir.”
Holloway approached.
Grant turned.
“No.”
“What?”
“I’ll do it.”
“That’s my arrest.”
“It isn’t an arrest anymore.”
The words landed hard.
Grant unlocked the cuffs herself.
Jamal brought his arms forward.
Red marks circled both wrists.
He rotated his shoulders.
Then stood.
Grant handed him his wallet.
His credentials were still inside.
“My firearm.”
Holloway held it.
Jamal extended his hand.
Holloway did not move.
Grant said, “Give him his weapon.”
Holloway looked at Jamal.
Then placed the unloaded pistol into Grant’s hand instead.
Grant returned it.
Jamal checked it automatically.
Magazine.
Chamber.
Condition.
He reholstered.
Then looked at Holloway.
The officer’s confidence had changed shape.
Now it was defensiveness.
“Why didn’t you identify yourself immediately?”
Jamal stared at him.
“I did.”
“Not until after I found the gun.”
“I attempted to resolve your vehicle concern without exposing a federal narcotics operation.”
“You matched a description.”
Jamal glanced toward the BMW.
“What description?”
“Black male in dark clothing looking into vehicles.”
“And you saw me enter how many?”
Holloway said nothing.
“How many door handles did you personally see me pull?”
Silence.
“What stolen-vehicle information did you have on my BMW?”
Holloway’s jaw tightened.
“I was investigating.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“You don’t get to interrogate me.”
“No.”
Jamal nodded.
“Internal Affairs will.”
Grant looked toward Holloway.
He looked away.
Jamal’s undercover phone buzzed again.
This time he could retrieve it.
He looked at the screen.
Four messages.
The first from Marcus Dale.
All good tonight?
The second, two minutes later.
Jay?
Third:
Call me.
Fourth:
Just saw cops downstairs. You clean?
Jamal felt his stomach drop.
Dale had seen police.
Maybe not Jamal.
Yet.
Jamal typed nothing.
He called Renee Calder.
She answered instantly.
“Jamal.”
“Cover may be burned.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Local department called us. What happened?”
“Suspicious-person stop.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Were you identified publicly?”
Jamal looked at the phones surrounding the scene.
“Very.”
Calder swore.
“Get out of there. Don’t contact Dale. Don’t contact Bellamy. Go dark.”
“The meet tonight—”
“Canceled.”
“We’re too close.”
“You’re on video surrounded by police.”
“He may not have seen me.”
“Jamal.”
He closed his eyes.
Nine months.
“Understood.”
“Federal response team is six minutes away.”