“Local dispatch didn’t send them.”
The older man’s face changed.
He walked toward the rear door.
Opened it.
The driver looked up.
“You need to cancel whatever you did.”
The driver’s voice remained even.
“I cannot.”
“You started it.”
“I triggered an identity-compromise alert.”
“Once confirmed, it becomes somebody else’s responsibility.”
The deputy stared.
“What does that mean?”
“It means people are coming to determine why a senior federal official’s credential was destroyed during an unverified roadside detention.”
The deputy stepped closer.
“You never told me you were senior.”
The driver almost laughed.
“I told you my title.”
“You laughed.”
The older deputy looked toward his partner.
“You heard him?”
The younger man nodded.
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I told you to verify.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
The younger deputy stared.
“It is exactly the same thing.”
The older deputy stepped away.
He took off his hat.
Wiped sweat from his forehead.
Put the hat back on.
For the first time, he looked frightened.
Not ashamed.
Not yet.
Only frightened.
The driver watched.
The deputy looked toward the highway again.
Still empty.
“How long?”
The driver looked toward the missing watch.
“About two minutes.”
The older deputy’s head snapped back.
“What?”
The younger deputy looked toward the road.
A low sound reached them.
Engines.
More than one.
The driver could not see around the patrol vehicle from the back seat.
The deputies could.
The younger man whispered:
“Oh, hell.”
The older deputy walked into the road.
Dark vehicles appeared beyond the heat shimmer.
Four at first.
Then two more.
Black SUVs.
A communications van.
Another vehicle farther behind.
They did not approach recklessly.
They approached with disciplined speed.
The lead SUV slowed long before the patrol stop.
Another turned across the far lane.
Two more positioned behind it.
The opposite direction filled almost simultaneously.
Another set of official vehicles appeared from the west.
The highway was being sealed.
Not violently.
Methodically.
The older deputy stared.
“What is this?”
The driver answered through the open door.
“The verification you refused to request.”
The deputy turned.
“Unlock him.”
The younger deputy moved immediately.
The older deputy stopped him.
“Wait.”
The younger man stared.
“What?”
“We need to figure out what we’re saying.”
The driver looked at him.
That was the first truly revealing sentence of the afternoon.
Not:
We need to correct this.
Not:
We need to release him.
We need to figure out what we’re saying.
The younger deputy understood too.
“No.”
The older man looked at him.
“No?”
“I’m unlocking him.”
The younger deputy reached toward the rear door.
The older man stepped in front.
“Listen to me.”
The younger man’s voice hardened.
“You destroyed his credential.”
“You burned sealed paperwork.”
“You told me not to verify.”
“And now you want to leave him cuffed while those people arrive?”
The older deputy lowered his voice.
“We need to stick together.”
The younger man stared.