"Carter," Miller whispered as they approached the car, "did you actually pat down her left pocket?"
"She's lying, Miller. They always lie," Carter snapped, opening the rear door of the cruiser.
He placed his hand on top of Valerie's head to force her down into the back seat. Valerie stopped. She planted her feet. With her hands cuffed behind her back, she stood up perfectly straight, forcing Carter to either break her neck or remove his hand. He removed his hand.
She turned to face the young officer.
"Officer Miller," she said, her voice dropping the civilian restraint. It was the voice that commanded briefing rooms; it was the voice that had broken cartels and fired corrupt captains. "My name is Valerie Thompson. My wallet is in the back-right pocket of my sweatpants. Take it out. Open it."
"Get in the car!" Carter yelled, reaching for her shoulder again.
"Carter, stop!" Miller suddenly shouted, his voice cracking slightly.
He had finally recognized the tone. It wasn't the tone of a cornered suspect; it was the tone of a commanding officer.
Miller stepped around Carter, his hands shaking slightly. He reached into Valerie's back pocket and withdrew a slim leather wallet. He flipped it open.
There, sitting behind a clear plastic window, was a gold shield. It gleamed in the afternoon sun. It was not a patrolman's badge. It was not a detective shield. It was the intricate, eagle-topped gold star of the Chief of Police. Right next to it was a laminated identification card:
Valerie Thompson, Chief of Police, Greater Metro Department.