“It’s intimidating to have them here,” Ballencoa said, but he didn’t appear intimidated or afraid, or angry, or upset, or anything else.

“They have a right to face their accuser,” Dixon said crisply. “Anyway, I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding. We can get it straightened out here and now.”

Ballencoa grabbed the messenger bag he had placed on the table in front of him and stuck his hand inside, and everything changed in the blink of an eye.

Bill Hicks shot sideways off his chair. Dixon lunged for Ballencoa’s arm. Mendez pulled his Glock from his shoulder holster and leveled it at Ballencoa, shouting, “DROP IT!!”

Ballencoa didn’t move, except for the big hooded eyes, which went from one man to the next to the next.

“It’s not a weapon,” he said. Now he looked intimidated, his skin taking on a chalky pallor.

By then, there were half a dozen deputies at the door, ready for action.

“I don’t have a weapon,” Ballencoa said again.

Mendez held his position. “Take your hand out of the bag. Empty.”

Cal Dixon slowly let go of the man’s arm, but didn’t take his hand more than a few inches away. “Very slowly, Mr. Ballencoa,” he said.

Ballencoa did as he was told, slowly withdrawing his hand from the messenger bag, fingers spread wide.

The tension level in the room dropped a few degrees. Hicks grabbed hold of the bag’s strap and pulled it out of Ballencoa’s reach.

“Can I look inside, Mr. Ballencoa?”

Ballencoa hesitated, staring at the bag. “Yes,” he said at last.

Hicks looked inside, reached in, and came out with a mini-cassette recorder about the size of a pistol’s grip.

Mendez let the air out of his lungs and stepped back almost reluctantly, sliding his gun back into his holster. His heart was still pumping hard as the adrenaline surge began to subside.

Cal Dixon sat back in his chair, pressing his hands flat on the tabletop as if reestablishing his balance.

Ballencoa was without expression, but his eyes were on his bag and the cassette recorder now lying on top of it.

“If I could have my things back now . . . ,” he said quietly.

Hicks pushed the bag back in his direction.

“Your detectives came knocking on my door this afternoon,” he said to Dixon, “and proceeded to harass and threaten me.”

Dixon turned to Mendez. “Detective Mendez?”

“You’re aware of Mr. Ballencoa’s background,” Mendez said. “And his history regarding Lauren Lawton. I was called to Mrs. Lawton’s home last night because someone had come onto her property and left a photograph on the windshield of her car. She had reason to believe the intruder might be Mr. Ballencoa. Detective Hicks and I went to Mr. Ballencoa’s home to find out where he was during the time in question.”

“I wasn’t even aware the woman is living here,” Ballencoa said.