Diane’s smile did not disappear completely.
Not yet.
Hayes stared.
Marcus continued.
“Ask whoever answers to confirm the identity of Marcus Reed.”
Hayes said nothing.
Marcus’s voice remained quiet.
“And ask them exactly who you have in handcuffs.”
The radio on Hayes’s shoulder crackled.
“Unit Twelve, status?”
Hayes pressed the button.
“Still investigating.”
Dispatch answered.
“Copy. Be advised, supervisor is requesting update on subject identification.”
Hayes looked at Marcus again.
Diane said:
“There. Tell them he refused to identify himself.”
Marcus shook his head.
“I did identify myself.”
“You gave a name.”
“That is identification.”
“You could have lied.”
“So could you.”
Diane’s mouth tightened.
Hayes spoke quickly.
“Both of you stop.”
Marcus looked toward the elevator.
The doors were still closed.
He had never expected a federal security team to arrive.
He had not summoned one.
He did not want one.
But his phone had gone into emergency judicial-security mode automatically when he failed to respond to a scheduled check-in.
That procedure existed because Marcus Reed had received three credible threats over the previous eighteen months.
One came from a man sentenced in a domestic terrorism case.
One from an online extremist group.
One from someone who had mailed a photograph of Marcus’s mother leaving church.
The United States Marshals Service did not take missed check-ins lightly anymore.
Marcus hated the arrangement.
His mother hated it more.
She called it “being babysat by the federal government.”
Marcus had told her it was temporary.
That had been ten months ago.
Hayes touched his radio again.
“Dispatch, run Marcus Reed. Date of birth—”
Marcus gave it.
Diane muttered:
“Finally.”
Hayes ignored her.
Dispatch repeated the information.
Then silence.
A few seconds became ten.
Then fifteen.
Hayes shifted.
Something about the delay bothered him.
Dispatch came back.
“Unit Twelve, confirm subject’s full name.”
“Marcus Adrian Reed.”
Another pause.
Then:
“Stand by.”
Diane frowned.
“What’s taking so long?”
Marcus looked at her.
“No idea.”
That was not entirely true.
He suspected exactly what was happening.
The city database had likely returned a federal protective flag.
Hayes’s radio crackled again.
This time the dispatcher’s voice sounded different.
More deliberate.
“Unit Twelve.”
“Go.”
“Do not transport.”
Hayes’s eyes narrowed.
“Repeat?”
“Do not transport subject at this time.”
Diane stepped forward.
“What?”
Hayes raised a hand without looking at her.
Dispatch continued.
“Subject identification is confirmed. Federal judicial security is contacting command.”
Hayes stared at Marcus.
Marcus said nothing.
“Can you clarify?”
Hayes asked.
Another voice came across the radio.
A supervisor now.
“Hayes, keep scene stable. Do not take further enforcement action until I arrive.”
Diane looked genuinely confused.
“Why?”
No one answered her.
Hayes lowered his radio.
Marcus looked toward the elevator again.
Then said:
“You should probably make the call.”
Hayes’s eyes remained on him.
“Who are you?”
Marcus almost smiled.
“That is the question I asked you to verify.”
The elevator bell rang.