Doors.
Naomi watched the transition.
The bully was gone.
The investigator had returned.
A dangerous investigator.
He was suddenly calculating what she might know.
That was the moment Naomi became certain.
Before then, Keller had been a subject of concern.
Patterns.
Financial irregularities.
Command failures.
Possible obstruction.
Now she saw something much more useful.
Recognition.
He understood the phrase “sealed evidence logs” instantly.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Naomi filed that away.
Keller moved closer again.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Naomi answered:
“Maybe.”
“You think some spreadsheet makes you understand this unit?”
“No.”
“You think people sitting in Washington know what happens on our streets?”
“No.”
Keller seemed surprised by the agreement.
Naomi continued.
“That’s why I’m here.”
He stared.
Behind Naomi, an engine approached.
Low.
Heavy.
A black federal SUV turned into the restricted vehicle lane.
Keller did not notice.
Naomi did.
So did Sergeant Grant.
The SUV slowed behind the row of task-force vehicles.
Keller kept talking.
“You walk in here with a fancy badge and some university vocabulary, and suddenly you think you can question men and women who’ve done this job longer than you’ve been out of school.”
Naomi watched the federal SUV stop.
Rear door opened.
Deputy Assistant Director Nathan Cole stepped out.
Fifty-nine.
Silver hair.
Charcoal suit.
Blue tie.
No visible urgency.
That was Nathan’s style.
He never hurried into a room.
He let rooms adjust to him.
Another federal official exited behind him carrying a sealed black evidence case.
Keller was still talking.
“You know how many shootings I’ve responded to?”
Naomi’s gaze remained on him.
“How many officers I’ve buried?”
“How many families I’ve notified?”
Naomi replied:
“I respect the work.”
Keller laughed bitterly.
“No, you respect the badge when it belongs to you.”
Nathan Cole began walking toward them.
Keller still had not noticed.
Naomi said:
“I respect lawful authority.”
That sentence finally made Keller angry again.
He raised one hand.
Pointed near her face.
“You’re standing on thin ice.”
A voice came from behind him.
“No, Lieutenant.”
Nathan Cole stopped ten feet away.
“You are.”
Keller turned.
His face changed.
Not dramatically.
It simply stopped belonging to the same man.
Command confidence disappeared.
He recognized Nathan.
Most senior officers in the region would.
Nathan Cole had spent thirty-one years in federal service.
Counterterrorism.
Public corruption.
Organized crime.
Inspector liaison.
Now deputy assistant director overseeing interagency enforcement operations across several field divisions.
Keller straightened automatically.
“Sir.”
Nathan looked past him.
At Naomi.
Then at the badge lying near the patrol car.
Then at Naomi’s blazer where Keller’s hand had wrinkled the fabric.
His face hardened.
“What happened?”
Keller answered immediately.
“Misunderstanding.”
Naomi almost smiled.
Nathan looked at her.
“Agent Brooks?”
Keller’s eyes moved between them.
Naomi replied:
“Lieutenant Keller requested my credentials.”
Nathan waited.
“I showed them.”
“And?”
Naomi looked at the wallet.
Nathan followed her gaze.
Keller jumped in.
“She became confrontational.”
Sergeant Grant’s eyes widened.
Nathan looked toward her.