Never asked Marcus about the photograph.
His first words were:
“Which one of you boys has been bothering people outside?”
Marcus looked up.
“Boys?”
David immediately sensed where the encounter was going.
He answered first.
“If someone made a complaint, Sergeant, we'd be happy to explain.”
Harlan looked at him.
“I wasn’t asking you.”
David leaned back.
Marcus said:
“Nobody was bothering anybody.”
“That man says different.”
“What man?”
Harlan pointed toward Earl.
Marcus recognized him.
“He thought I took a picture of his truck.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“You calling him a liar?”
Marcus frowned.
“I’m telling you what happened.”
Harlan looked down at Marcus’s hoodie.
Then David’s simple jacket.
Then the burgers.
It was not evidence.
But something in his expression suggested he thought he had already found what he expected to find.
“You two passing through?”
Marcus answered:
“Yes.”
“Where from?”
David asked:
“Are we being investigated for something?”
Harlan turned toward him again.
“I ask the questions.”
David nodded.
“Then ask one related to a crime.”
That was the moment Harlan’s expression hardened.
Now, standing beside the destroyed lunch, Harlan stared at David’s credential case.
His hand remained near his holster.
“What agency?”
David turned the case enough for him to read.
Harlan read it twice.
Then looked at David.
“DOJ?”
“Yes.”
“You a marshal?”
“No.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Eating lunch.”
Harlan looked at Marcus.
“And him?”
Marcus wiped water from his face.
“A citizen who was eating lunch until you threw it on the floor.”
Harlan’s eyes narrowed.
“You think flashing a badge changes what happened?”
David closed the credential case.
“No.”
That answer seemed to surprise him.
David continued.
“It changes what you know about the hand going inside my jacket.”
He returned the credentials carefully.
“But it doesn’t change anything you did before that.”
Harlan’s jaw tightened.
Several customers had taken out phones.
The waitress still held the coffeepot.
Someone near the counter whispered:
“Jesus.”
Harlan looked around.
His authority was slipping.
And instead of correcting course, he tried to take it back.
“Both of you, hands on the table.”
Marcus laughed once in disbelief.
“You cannot be serious.”
Harlan stepped closer.
“I said hands on the table.”
David obeyed.
Not because Harlan was right.
Because Harlan was armed, angry, and embarrassed.
Marcus looked at David.
David gave him the smallest nod.
Do it.
Marcus placed both hands flat on the table.
Harlan reached for his radio.
“Unit Twelve, send me another unit. Two detained males at Henderson’s.”
David asked: