Mercer shrugged, though a bead of sweat appeared on his bald head. “Doesn’t prove FBI.”
Denise coughed, her eyes streaming. “Credential. Center console.”
Bell moved toward the SUV. He opened the console and immediately froze. Inside sat a black leather credential case, a secured government smartphone, and a high-clearance federal access badge. Bell opened the leather case.
The color drained entirely from the Sergeant's face.
The identification carried Denise’s photograph, the federal seal, her badge number, and her title: SPECIAL AGENT IN CHARGE.
Bell stared at it for three long seconds before turning toward his subordinate. “Take the cuffs off.”
Mercer frowned. “What?”
“Now. Take. Them. Off.”
Mercer looked at the identification in Bell's hand and visibly swallowed. He released the restraints slowly, his hands shaking slightly.
Denise immediately rubbed her bruised wrists but did not reach for her credentials. “Call your dispatcher back,” she told Bell. “You want independent verification.”
Bell radioed it in. The answer took a minute.
“Unit twelve, federal contact confirms Denise Carter is an active FBI Special Agent in Charge. Additional protective designation attached. Federal operations center requesting immediate welfare status.”
Silence fell over the driveway.
Nobody moved. Bell looked at Denise in horror. Mercer stared at the pavement, the reality of his actions crashing down on him.
Denise took the credential from Bell and closed the leather case carefully. Her eyes were swollen and weeping from the pepper spray, but her posture was unyielding.
“Request medical assistance,” Bell said into his radio, his voice wavering.
Denise shook her head. “First, preserve both body cameras.”
Bell nodded quickly. “Done.”
“Dispatch audio.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Vehicle computer queries. All communications associated with the original suspicious-vehicle call.”