CHAPTER 3
There was no warning.
No command.
No final instruction.
Only the violent hiss of the canister.
And then the world became fire.
Denise stumbled backward against the SUV.
Mercer grabbed her wrist.
“Stop resisting!”
“I am not resisting,” she coughed.
The pain in her eyes was almost overwhelming, but Denise forced herself to breathe slowly. Panic would make everything worse. Training had taught her that.
Beside her, Bell shouted.
“Wade, what are you doing?”
“She reached into the vehicle!”
“I told you I was retrieving identification,” Denise said.
Mercer twisted her arm behind her back.
“Possible weapon.”
Metal handcuffs snapped around her wrists.
Bell stared at his fellow officer.
“Did you tell her not to reach?”
“She was acting suspicious.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Across the street, doors opened.
Neighbors stepped outside.
One elderly man lifted his phone and began recording.
Denise leaned against the vehicle and tried to focus.
“My credential is still in the center console.”
Mercer sneered.
“And I’m the president.”
“Enough,” Bell said sharply.
For the first time, Mercer seemed surprised by his colleague’s tone.
Bell reached for his radio.
“Dispatch. Run Denise Carter using the date of birth on her license. Check for any federal law-enforcement flag.”
“You’re wasting time,” Mercer muttered.
Bell did not respond.
Thirty seconds later, dispatch answered.
“Virginia license valid. Address matches current location. Vehicle registration also returns to Denise Elaine Carter.”
Bell looked directly at Mercer.
Mercer shrugged.
“Doesn’t prove FBI.”
Denise coughed.
“Credential.”
Bell walked toward the SUV.
“I’m retrieving it with your permission.”
“Yes.”
He opened the center console.
Then he froze.
Inside was a black leather credential case, a secured government phone, and a federal access badge.
Bell opened the case.
The color drained from his face.
The photograph was unmistakable.
The name matched.
The title beneath it was impossible to misunderstand.
SPECIAL AGENT IN CHARGE.
Bell turned slowly toward Mercer.
“Take the cuffs off.”
Mercer frowned.
“What?”
“Now.”
Mercer looked at the credential.
“Could still be—”
“Take. Them. Off.”
This time, Mercer obeyed.
The cuffs came free.
Denise rubbed her wrists but did not reach immediately for her identification.
Instead, she looked at Bell.