looked from the badge to Marcus, and
back to the badge.
"This... this is a fake," Miller
stammered, his voice suddenly lacking its
previous boom. "You're impersonating a
federal officer. That's a federal offense."
"If you believe it's fake," Marcus
said softly, "then you shouldn't have any
problem letting me make a call to the
regional field office to verify it. Unless
you're afraid."
Miller swallowed hard. His hands
were trembling slightly as he pulled a
cell phone from his pocket and slid it
across the table. "Make your call. But if
this is a trick..."
Marcus awkwardly leaned forward,
using his nose to dial a number he knew
by heart. It rang twice before it was
answered by Section Chief Robert Harris,
the head of the East Coast Organized
Crime Division.
"Harris," the voice barked on the
other end.
"Chief. It's Vance," Marcus said
calmly. "I need you to run a trace on this
cell phone's location. I've been
unlawfully detained and arrested by a
local officer during my mother's funeral.
I am currently handcuffed in an
interrogation room at the Oakhaven
Police Department."
There was a beat of dead silence on
the line. Then, Chief Harris spoke, his
voice dropping to a terrifyingly quiet
whisper. "They arrested you at Eleanor's
funeral?"
"Yes, sir."
"Are you injured?"
"No, sir. Just inconvenienced."
"Hold your position, Agent Vance,"
Harris said, the icy calm of his voice
masking a furious storm. "We're ten
minutes away. The cavalry is coming."
Chapter 6: The Federal
Revelation
The next fifteen minutes in the
Oakhaven Police Department were a
masterclass in psychological torture for
Officer Ray Miller. He paced the small
interrogation room, sweating profusely,
occasionally glancing at the silent, stone-
faced man sitting in the chair. Marcus
hadn't spoken another word. He just sat
there, emanating an aura of absolute
authority that made the handcuffs look
like a temporary, comical mistake.
Miller tried to convince himself it
was a bluff. A scam. A sophisticated
prank. But deep down, in the pit of his
stomach, the terrible truth was taking
root. The badge in the wallet felt too
heavy, the engraving too precise. The