His stomach tightened. He had attended joint federal training 2 years earlier. He remembered those credentials. Every tiny security engraving, every microscopic detail. This one looked authentic, very authentic.
His voice almost disappeared. "Sergeant." Travis ignored him. He stepped directly in front of Nia. "So, this is your little trick?"
Nia answered quietly. "You should hand that back." Travis smiled. "Or what?" "You already know the answer."
"No." He tossed the badge onto the hood of the cruiser. "I really don't." Then, a low rumble drifted across the highway. Ryan glanced toward the sound.
Thunder? The sky remained perfectly clear. The rumble grew louder, deeper, multiple engines, powerful engines. Every person in the parking lot slowly turned toward the highway. Marcus Hill lifted his head.
Linda Foster, still hiding behind the church several blocks away, heard it, too. Inside FBI headquarters, every analyst watched the GPS icons converge on Red Creek. Daniel Carter finally stood. "They're here." Back outside, a black Chevrolet Suburban appeared over the hill, then another, then another.
Within seconds, six identical black SUVs raced toward the intersection in perfect formation. No local police markings, only dark windows, heavy push bars, government plates. Ryan frowned. "What agency is that?" Nobody answered.
The lead vehicle accelerated instead of slowing down. Its emergency lights exploded to life. Red, blue, white. Powerful sirens shattered the quiet afternoon. The convoy swept into the parking lot from three different directions with military precision.
Tires screamed against the asphalt. Doors flew open before the vehicles had fully stopped. Men and women wearing black tactical gear poured out with astonishing speed. Large yellow letters stretched across their protective vests. FBI.
The crowd gasped. Ryan instinctively reached for his holster. "Sergeant, don't." Travis barked, though even he sounded uncertain. More vehicles arrived.
Then two US Marshals SUVs blocked every exit. Deputy US Marshal Ethan Brooks stepped out first. Behind him came Special Agent Malcolm Pierce and more than a dozen armed federal agents. Every movement was coordinated. Every position already assigned.
The corrupt officers suddenly realized something terrifying. This wasn't an emergency response. It was a planned operation. Malcolm Pierce walked forward without raising his voice. His eyes settled on Nia first.
She gave him the slightest nod, nothing more. No panic, no surprise, only confirmation. She had held the line. He looked at the five officers surrounding her. Then his gaze stopped on the FBI badge still lying on the hood of the patrol cruiser.
Finally, he spoke. "Sergeant Travis Cole." The entire parking lot fell silent. "Take your hands away from Special Agent Nia Brooks." His agents raised their weapons into ready positions and step away from my agent.