“Food’s over.”
Sergeant Rick Harlan slammed one broad palm onto the table.
The silverware jumped.
A glass of iced tea trembled beside Marcus Bennett’s hand.
Around them, the busy roadside diner seemed to lose half its sound.
Harlan leaned over the booth.
Six-foot-three.
Heavy shoulders.
Short brown buzz cut.
Thick mustache.
Narrow blue eyes carrying the confidence of a man who had already decided how the next five minutes were going to go.
“Get your sorry asses out before I drag you out myself.”
Marcus stared at him.
“What the hell?”
Beside him, David Cole slowly put down his burger.
Neither man looked remotely threatening.
Marcus, forty-eight, wore a faded dark-green hoodie over a gray T-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers that had seen better years.
David, forty-two, wore a simple navy canvas jacket, white T-shirt, faded black jeans, and clean white sneakers.
Two men eating lunch.
That was all anyone in the diner had seen.
Until Sergeant Harlan walked in.
Marcus gestured toward the table.
“We paid for our food. We haven’t bothered anybody.”
Harlan smiled.
“You don’t tell me what you did.”
He leaned closer.
“I tell you.”
David’s expression changed.
Not fear.
Attention.
He had been watching Harlan from the second the sergeant entered.
The body camera mounted in the center of his uniform.
The position of his hands.
The distance between the booth and the exit.
The patrol car outside.
Another deputy still sitting behind the wheel.
David noticed those things automatically.
Marcus did not.
Marcus was simply angry.
“What exactly are you accusing us of?”
Harlan looked toward the customers around them as though performing for an audience.
Then he swept his arm across the table.
Two baskets of fries hit the floor.
Marcus’s burger followed.
A plastic cup toppled.
Soda splashed across the polished tile.
Someone gasped.
The waitress behind the counter froze with a coffeepot in her hand.
Marcus started to stand.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Harlan grabbed the remaining water cup.
And threw it directly into Marcus’s face.
The diner went silent.
Water ran from Marcus’s beard.
Down his hoodie.
Onto the seat.
Nobody moved.
Harlan placed the empty cup back on the table.
“There.”
He smiled.
“Now you’ve got a reason to be upset.”
Marcus pushed himself upright.
David stood at the same time.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He looked directly at Harlan.
“You might want to watch how you’re talking.”
Harlan turned toward him.
The grin widened.
“Is that a threat?”
“No.”
“Sounded like one.”
David’s voice remained level.
“It was advice.”
Harlan pointed toward the front door.
“Both of you. Out.”
David did not move.
Instead, his right hand moved toward the inside of his canvas jacket.
Harlan reacted instantly.
His hand shot toward his holster.
“Don’t.”
Everyone in the diner froze.
David stopped moving.
Harlan’s eyes narrowed.
“Reach into that jacket again and see what happens.”
David held his gaze.