“Yes?”
“Do not involve my son.”
Rebecca looked delighted.
“Or what?”
Daniel did not answer.
Rebecca stepped closer and shoved him in the chest.
Not enough to knock him down.
Enough to establish contact.
Daniel absorbed it.
Hands visible.
Rebecca pushed again.
“Back up.”
Daniel stepped back.
She pointed toward the pavement.
“Kneel.”
The word landed harder than the shove.
Keisha said, “Rebecca, don’t.”
The lieutenant looked toward her.
“You know my name?”
Keisha froze.
Daniel’s heart stopped.
Everybody in the neighborhood knew Rebecca’s name because complaints about her were common.
That explanation could still work.
Keisha recovered.
“Your name is on your uniform.”
Rebecca looked down.
Then smiled.
“Smart.”
Daniel calculated rapidly.
Too many officers.
Children nearby.
No immediate lethal threat.
Comply.
He lowered himself onto one knee.
Jordan stared.
Rebecca said, “Both.”
Daniel put the other knee down.
Concrete pressed through his jeans.
Rebecca turned toward the crowd.
“This is what happens when people remember authority.”
Daniel looked up at her.
Eight months of evidence.
Eight months.
Grant searched him.
Roughly.
Hands along the waistband.
Pockets.
Jacket.
Daniel controlled his breathing.
Then Grant’s hand entered the inner pocket.
Everything stopped.
He pulled out a leather credential case.
Daniel’s FBI shield.
Grant frowned.
Rebecca grabbed it.
Opened it.
For one second, Daniel thought the operation was over.
Then Rebecca laughed.
“Look at this.”
She held up the shield.
“A fake FBI badge.”
Daniel said nothing.
Grant laughed too.
Dorsey leaned closer.
“Seriously?”
Rebecca turned the credentials toward the crowd.
“This guy bought himself a toy badge.”
Keisha closed her eyes.
Daniel almost could not believe what he was hearing.
Rebecca looked down at him.
“What, you watch too many crime shows?”
Daniel said, “I recommend you verify it.”
Rebecca laughed harder.
“Verify it?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like something a fake cop would say.”
She tossed the credential case onto the concrete.
It landed in frosting.
Then she stepped on it.
Daniel stared at her boot.
The genuine federal shield disappeared beneath chocolate and dirt.
Grant said, “Impersonating a federal officer. That’ll be fun.”
Dorsey added, “Maybe call the real FBI.”
The officers laughed.
Daniel did not.
Jordan broke away from Keisha.
“Leave my dad alone!”
He ran.
Keisha grabbed him around the waist before he reached Rebecca.
Jordan struggled.
“She broke my cake!”
“I know.”
“She broke my presents!”
“I know, baby.”
Rebecca looked toward him.
“Control your kid.”
Keisha’s face hardened.
“He is eight.”
“Eight is old enough to learn respect.”
Daniel looked up.
“Leave him alone.”
Rebecca turned.
“What was that?”
“Leave my son out of this.”
Something in his voice made Grant stop smiling.
Rebecca noticed too.
Instead of retreating, she leaned into it.
“I think your entire family needs a lesson.”
Daniel’s hands slowly closed.
Rebecca took out her radio.
“Dispatch, request child services.”
Keisha stared.
“For what?”
“Possible neglect.”
Daniel’s expression went still.
Rebecca continued.
“Unsafe environment.”
“Possible criminal activity by parents.”
Jordan stopped struggling.
He looked at Daniel.
“Dad?”
Rebecca spoke into the radio.
“Minor exposed to disorderly gathering, suspected criminal impersonation, possible substance activity.”
Daniel realized something important.
The lie came too easily.
Not improvised.
Practiced.
How many times had she used child welfare as leverage?
How many parents had surrendered complaints because she threatened their children?
This was more evidence.
Valuable evidence.
He hated himself for noticing.
Keisha said, “You cannot lie about us to child services.”
Rebecca lowered the radio.
“Watch me.”
Daniel looked toward his wife.
She was scared.
Not undercover scared.
Mother scared.
Different.
Rebecca continued, “Maybe your son spends the night somewhere safe while you two sit in booking.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
Jordan started crying harder.
“Dad, I don’t want to go anywhere.”
Rebecca looked pleased.
That was the moment Daniel’s priorities changed.
Not emotionally.
Operationally.
Family safety now outweighed cover preservation.
He reached slowly toward his pocket.
Every officer tensed.
Grant’s hand moved toward his gun.
Daniel said, “Phone.”
Rebecca laughed.
“Calling a lawyer?”
Daniel removed the phone.
“You should.”
“No.”
“Who then?”
Daniel unlocked the device.
One number.
Emergency command channel.
Rebecca mocked him.
“Your mother?”
Daniel pressed call.
Answered after one ring.
“Federal operations.”
Daniel’s voice changed.
The neighborhood father disappeared.
“Control, this is Special Agent Daniel Carter, credential 5196.”
Silence fell across the pavilion.
“Undercover operation compromised.”
Grant’s face changed.
Daniel continued.
“Location Patterson Park, Baltimore.”
“Primary target Lieutenant Rebecca Sloan.”
“Family member currently threatened.”
“Multiple civil-rights violations occurring on scene.”
Rebecca stared.
Daniel looked directly at her.
“Request immediate federal response and execution of contingency warrants.”
The voice from the phone came through clearly enough that those nearby could hear.
“Agent Carter, authentication.”
Daniel gave a coded phrase.
The operator responded.
“Identity confirmed.”
Everything changed.
Rebecca grabbed the phone.
Daniel let her.
She stared at the screen.
Secure FBI application.
Official seal.
Encrypted connection.
Her face went pale.
“This is fake.”
Daniel stood.
Grant stepped backward.
Rebecca looked at him.
“I said kneel.”
Daniel did not.
“You’re done giving orders.”
His voice carried through the pavilion.
Rebecca stared.
Daniel bent down.
Picked up the credential case.
Wiped frosting from the shield.
Then held it open.
“Special Agent Daniel Carter.”
“Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
“Public Corruption and Civil Rights Task Force.”
The crowd reacted all at once.
Mrs. Grant covered her mouth.
Avery Jennings whispered something Daniel could not hear.
Keisha pulled Jordan against her.
Jordan stared at the badge.
“You’re FBI?”
Daniel looked toward him.
“Yeah, buddy.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“No.”
Daniel looked back.
“Nine months.”
“What?”
“Nine months of financial surveillance.”
“Controlled recordings.”
“Protected witnesses.”
“Drug payments.”
“Retaliatory arrests.”
“False reports.”
Rebecca’s face changed with every phrase.