“Of course,” Davis said. “I can release him to your custody right now. We just need a signature on the release log.”
I kept my hand flat on the counter next to my wallet. “Who filed the complaint?”
“Your sister-in-law,” Davis said, nodding toward the glass doors leading to the side exit. “She claimed he threatened her with a weapon. But we have not processed any formal charges.”
“He is seventy-three years old,” I said. “He has never owned a baseball bat in his life.”
“We have to respond to the call, Agent,” Davis said. He slid a heavy metal clipboard across the counter. “Sign here.”
I signed my name with quick, sharp strokes. The cheap pen left a thin trail of black ink that smeared slightly under my thumb as I pushed the clipboard back to him.
“Is his car keys in his possession?” I asked.
“Your brother took them,” Davis said.
