"Inspect WHAT? I didn't steal anything! I'm a surgeon at Riverdale City First Hospital!"
"There's a teenager in the ER with a severed trachea. If I don't operate, he dies!"
I pulled out my phone and shoved the screen in his face, showing him the message from the department chief.
Captain Paulson glanced at it. His frown deepened, and for a second he wavered.
My mother's voice curled with mock sympathy: "Those messages are so easy to fake. That doesn't prove a thing..."
Greg Paulson's expression hardened immediately:
"She's right. If you've got nothing to hide, a quick pat-down shouldn't be a problem."
My fists clenched so tight I nearly cracked the phone screen.
"How long will the search take?"
"Five minutes, if we're quick."
Five minutes. Plus the three already wasted. Eight minutes total.
Still enough time.
I ground my teeth until I tasted iron, threw my bag on the floor, and spread my arms wide.
"Search me. Do it fast."
Two female guards stepped forward and patted me down head to toe.
Jacket pockets. Pants pockets. Every compartment of my bag. They even pulled out my insoles.
Nothing.
I bent down to grab my bag and turned to run for the exit.
My mother screamed: "WAIT!"