"I mean that there are procedures for dealing with people who claim to be federal agents. We need to establish exactly why he is here."
Cross answered calmly.
"That is a reasonable question."
Kane looked surprised by the response.
"It is?"
"Yes. You can ask why I'm here. You can verify my credentials. You can document the circumstances of the encounter. None of that requires you to strike me."
The room became quiet again.
Brooks did not interrupt.
Parker continued writing, though his attention remained on the exchange.
Kane looked away first.
He walked to the end of the table and picked up a folder, this time opening it with the apparent intention of finding something useful. He turned several pages, scanned a printed form, and then closed it again.
Cross watched him without comment.
The officer's behavior suggested that he wanted the comfort of a familiar task, something that could restore the feeling that he was directing events. But no amount of paperwork could make the unanswered questions disappear.
Why had he refused the first request for verification?
Why had he decided the badge was false before contacting anyone?
Why had he struck a man who was already restrained?
And why had he continued to defend those decisions even after his colleagues had raised concerns?
The questions were not complicated.
What made them difficult was the possibility that the answers might reveal a pattern rather than a single mistake.
Brooks finished the first section of the incident report and placed the pages in a neat stack. She asked Parker to confirm the times he had personally observed. He checked his notes and supplied the details, distinguishing between what he had witnessed and what he had heard from others.
Neither officer attempted to guess what the final verification would show.
Kane watched them from across the room.
"You're both acting as though I've committed some terrible crime," he said.
Brooks kept her attention on the report.
"We're acting as though something serious happened and needs to be documented."
"It was a brief confrontation."
"A brief confrontation can still have serious consequences."
"He was talking back."
"Talking is not the same as attacking you."
Kane's jaw worked as he searched for a reply.
Brooks continued.
"You were the officer with the authority in that room. You were the person who could decide whether to pause, ask a supervisor for help, or make the call. Instead, you chose to hit a handcuffed man."
Kane looked toward Parker, apparently expecting him to object to her account.
Parker did not.
The silence was becoming intolerable to him.
"You have both worked with me for years," Kane said. "You know how I operate. You know I don't tolerate people trying to manipulate the system."
Brooks finally raised her eyes.
"Knowing you for years doesn't mean we should ignore what happened tonight."
For a moment, Kane looked almost wounded.
It was a brief expression, quickly replaced by anger, but Cross noticed it. Beneath the officer's aggression was a deep dependence on the approval of people he considered part of his own circle. He expected their loyalty to protect him from scrutiny, even when his actions had placed them in an impossible position.
The expectation was not unusual.
In workplaces where rank and familiarity became intertwined, people sometimes learned to defend a colleague before examining the facts. They told themselves that the person had good intentions, that the incident had been misunderstood, or that raising concerns would damage the entire team.
But loyalty could not change what had happened.
And silence could not make a witness forget.
A knock sounded at the conference room door.
Parker opened it slightly and spoke to someone outside. A staff member had arrived to arrange the medical assessment Brooks requested. After a brief exchange, Parker allowed the person to enter.
The staff member introduced themselves and approached Cross, asking about the injury and whether he felt dizzy or had difficulty breathing. Cross answered the questions as clearly as possible. He explained that he had been struck in the face and had experienced a short period of disorientation from the impact, but he remained alert.
The staff member examined the visible injury and recommended that it be assessed more thoroughly.
Kane watched from the other side of the table.
"He's fine," he said again.
The staff member turned toward him.
"I'm going to assess him based on his condition, not your opinion."