He looked toward the door lock.
Then at Serena.
“Unlock it.”
“No.”
He stepped back.
For perhaps the first time, his confidence was no longer complete.
The radio crackled again.
“Fourteen.”
Crowe pressed it.
“What?”
The dispatcher sounded different now.
Careful.
“Be advised, requested plate return received.”
Crowe looked at Serena.
The dispatcher continued.
“Vehicle returns federal fleet restricted.”
Crowe said nothing.
“Fourteen, copy?”
He pressed the button.
“Could be cloned.”
The dispatcher hesitated.
“Additional instruction: do not approach vehicle further. Maintain observation only.”
Crowe’s face went pale beneath the heat.
Serena leaned back slightly.
Crowe saw.
“You enjoying this?”
“No.”
“Sure looks like it.”
“You could still holster the weapon.”
He looked down.
Only then did he seem to realize he was still holding it.
Instead of holstering, he lowered it beside his thigh.
“That badge could still be fake.”
“Yes.”
Crowe’s eyebrows rose.
Serena continued:
“That is why verification exists.”
He stared.
The first siren became audible two minutes later.
Crowe turned toward the road.
A sheriff’s SUV appeared from the east.
Then another vehicle behind it.
Not federal.
County.
Crowe cursed under his breath.
The lead SUV stopped thirty yards behind the cruiser.
A tall Black sheriff’s captain exited.
Another deputy remained near the vehicle.
The captain walked forward with his hands visible.
“Ryland.”
Crowe said:
“I’ve got it handled.”
“Holster your weapon.”
Crowe looked at him.
“This is my stop.”
“Holster it.”
“She’s resisting.”
Serena looked at the captain.
“I have not moved from the driver’s seat.”
Crowe snapped:
“Don’t talk!”
The sheriff’s captain’s expression changed.
“Ryland.”
Crowe turned.
“Holster it.”
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Crowe slid the Glock into its holster.
The sheriff’s captain exhaled.
“Step away from the vehicle.”
Crowe moved back perhaps two feet.
“I’m telling you she’s impersonating.”
“Did you run the federal contact?”
“She pushed some panic button.”
The captain looked through the window at Serena.
“Ma’am?”
Serena said:
“My identification is on the passenger-side floor where Officer Crowe struck it from the dashboard.”
The captain looked at Crowe.
“He what?”
Crowe waved a hand.
“She was waving it around.”
Serena said:
“I placed it on the dashboard.”
Crowe stepped toward the window.
“She’s lying.”
The captain blocked him with one arm.
“Back.”
Crowe’s eyes widened.
“You’re taking her word over mine?”
“I’m preventing you from escalating while I figure out what happened.”
“This is Oak Creek.”
“I know where we are.”
Crowe stared.
The captain looked at Serena.
“May I retrieve the credentials?”
“Yes.”
“How?”