Darius's expression remained unchanged.
“No.”
Mallory blinked.
“What?”
“I have provided my identification, registration, insurance, and membership card. Everything matches. I do not consent to an unnecessary search of my vehicle.”
Mallory's jaw tightened.
“If it's your car, why refuse?”
“Because ownership does not eliminate my right to privacy.”
A few members shifted.
One of the men recording from the terrace moved closer.
Mallory lowered his voice.
“Don't make this difficult.”
Darius looked directly at him.
“I am not making anything difficult, Officer.”
“Pop the trunk.”
“No.”
“Open the vehicle.”
“No.”
Marianne smiled.
It was subtle.
But Darius saw it.
She believed the officer was finally doing what she had wanted from the beginning.
Then Mallory said something that changed the atmosphere.
“Turn around and place your hands behind your back.”
Ortiz looked at him.
“Dean.”
Mallory ignored her.
Darius did not turn.
“Am I under arrest?”
“We're investigating a possible theft.”
“Am I under arrest?”
Mallory hesitated.
“Not at this time.”
“Then I would like to know whether I am free to leave.”
“We are still investigating.”
“Based on what evidence?”
Mallory did not answer.
Darius reached slowly toward his jacket pocket.
Mallory's hand moved immediately toward his holster.
“Don't reach!”
Darius froze.
“My phone.”
“Keep your hands visible.”
“I intend to call my attorney.”
Ortiz stepped forward.
“He can do that, Dean.”
Mallory glanced at her.
Darius slowly withdrew his phone.
He unlocked it.
Then he selected a contact.
The call connected almost immediately.
“Mr. Whitaker?”
The voice belonged to Naomi Bell.
“Naomi, I need you on speaker.”
“Of course.”
Darius activated the speaker.
Naomi's voice became audible to everyone nearby.
“I'm here.”
“I am at Harbor Ridge Country Club. Local police officers are questioning me after a member accused me of stealing my own vehicle.”
A brief silence followed.
Then Naomi asked, “Have you provided identification?”
“Yes.”
“Registration?”
“Yes.”
“Insurance?”
“Yes.”
“Membership credentials?”
“Yes.”
“Do the documents match?”
Darius looked at Officer Ortiz.
“They do.”
Naomi paused.
“Then I need the officers' names, badge numbers, and the incident reference.”
Mallory stiffened.
“Who is this?”
“Naomi Bell, general counsel of Northstar Meridian Capital.”
Mallory looked at the phone.
“I'm conducting an investigation.”
“Understood,” Naomi replied. “May I ask whether Mr. Whitaker is under arrest?”
“No.”
“Is he free to leave?”
“We're still investigating.”
“On what factual basis?”
Mallory looked irritated.
“Ma'am, you don't need to question me.”
“I'm not interfering with your investigation. I'm documenting the circumstances.”
Naomi's tone remained professional.
“Please preserve all body-camera footage, dispatch recordings, witness statements, and any written reports related to this incident.”
Mallory glanced toward his camera.
“You don't tell me how to do my job.”
“No,” Naomi said. “The law and department policy do.”
The terrace had become completely silent.
Darius looked toward the club entrance.
Peter Lyle was standing inside the doorway.
He appeared to recognize something was wrong.
But he did not approach.
Not yet.
Marianne crossed her arms.
“Are we really going to let this man intimidate everyone with a lawyer?”
Darius turned toward her.
“I have not intimidated anyone.”
“You're making a spectacle.”
“You called the police.”
“Because I was protecting the club.”
“From what?”
She opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
For the first time, she had no immediate answer.
Naomi's voice returned through the phone.
“Mr. Whitaker, is anyone claiming that you threatened them?”
Darius looked at Marianne.
“No one has said so yet.”
Marianne immediately stepped forward.
“He threatened me.”
The statement was loud enough for everyone to hear.
Darius looked at her.
“What did I say?”
Marianne lifted her chin.
“He told me I would regret interfering.”
Darius was silent.
Officer Ortiz looked at Marianne.
“When did he say that?”
“Just now.”
“What exactly did he say?”
Marianne hesitated.
“He said I would regret it.”
Darius glanced at the phone.
“Naomi, please note that I deny making that statement.”
“Noted,” Naomi replied.
Marianne turned toward the officers.
“I am telling you he threatened me.”
Ortiz looked at the valet attendants.
“Did anyone hear that?”
Nobody answered immediately.
One of the attendants lowered his head.
Another looked toward the clubhouse.
The youngest employee, Lucas, stood near the entrance.
He had heard the entire conversation.
He wanted to speak.
But he remembered what Marianne had said to him during his first month of employment.
If you want to build a career here, you need to understand who keeps this place running.
Lucas had understood the warning.
He was not sure he had the courage to ignore it.
Then Darius noticed the man behind the valet podium.
Anthony Brooks.
Anthony had been working at Harbor Ridge for eleven years.
He was fifty-two, married, and had a son preparing to begin community college.
His wife had recently undergone surgery.