The oppressive desert heat seemed to evaporate in an instant, replaced by a freezing, paralyzing tension. Carter’s movements were deliberate and unhurried. He didn't reach for a weapon, nor did he raise his voice. Instead, with both hands, he grasped the lapels of his black jacket and pulled them sharply outward.
The harsh, midday sunlight caught the heavy metal instantly. Pinned securely to the inside of his jacket, resting right over his heart, was a gleaming, solid gold FBI shield.
For a fraction of a second, the world stood entirely still. Miller’s aggressive, red-faced expression froze into a mask of grotesque confusion. His brain violently rejected the visual information it was receiving. The man sitting before him was not a exhausted, helpless trucker desperate to protect his livelihood. He was an apex predator, sitting patiently at the center of an elaborate, inescapable web. The rookie cop standing a few feet away audibly gasped, instinctively taking a large, frantic step backward, his hand completely dropping away from his citation book.