Rourke's smile widened.
"Oh, we got ourselves a serious one."
The heavyset sergeant chuckled.
"Better loosen up, rookie."
I said nothing.
Rourke stepped closer.
His boots made a faint sound against the tile.
He was close enough that I could smell coffee on his uniform and the sharp scent of the aftershave he had applied that morning.
"You got a problem with me?"
I looked at him.
"No."
He laughed.
"Good."
Then he shoved my shoulder.
Not hard enough to knock me down.
Just hard enough to demonstrate that he believed he could put his hands on me whenever he wanted.
The movement caused more coffee to drip from my sleeve.
The room erupted again.
I looked toward the officers behind him.
Four men.
Three laughing.
One trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile.
Another uniformed officer, a young Latina patrolwoman near the doorway, had gone completely still. She was not laughing.
Her eyes moved from my soaked shirt to the cup in Rourke's hand.
I noticed that.
I noticed everything.
Then I returned my attention to Rourke.
"What's your badge number?"
His grin faltered slightly.
"What?"
"Your badge number."
He stared.
Then laughed.
"Why? You writing a complaint?"
I calmly wiped coffee from my eyebrow with two fingers.
"Possibly."
The heavyset sergeant stepped forward.
"All right, that's enough."
For one moment, I thought he might finally intervene on my behalf.
Instead, he looked at me.
"Don't make this bigger than it is."
I studied him.
"What's your name, Sergeant?"
His expression tightened.
"Excuse me?"
"Your name."
He stared for a moment.
Then pointed toward his chest.
"Read the badge."
I looked.
Todd Keller.
Twenty-three years in law enforcement.
At least according to the personnel record I reviewed before entering the station.
I already knew his name.
I knew Rourke's too.
What I wanted to discover was whether they would identify themselves honestly after what had just happened.
Keller folded his arms.
"Look, buddy, you're new around here. Officer Rourke's having a little fun. You don't need to turn it into a federal case."
I considered his words.
Then reached slowly inside my suit jacket.
Rourke's smile returned.
"What's that? Your supervisor's phone number?"
I withdrew a black leather credential holder.
The laughter began fading.
I opened it.
A gold investigative shield caught the fluorescent light.
Beneath it sat my official identification.
STATE BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION — PUBLIC INTEGRITY UNIT.
I held the credentials between us.
Then spoke quietly.
"I'm not new to law enforcement, Officer Rourke."
His expression changed.
At first, confusion.