"He said no."

Sullivan glared at her.

"I know what he said."

"Then unless you've got something else—"

"I'll handle this."

Grant stopped.

The hierarchy between them was obvious.

Sullivan was senior.

Elijah recognized what happened next because he had seen it in institutions far more powerful than a small police department.

Grant disagreed.

But she hesitated.

Sometimes systems failed not because everyone agreed with a bad decision, but because the person who disagreed decided that moment wasn't worth the conflict.

Sullivan returned to Elijah.

"You think you're smarter than me?"

"No."

"You some kind of lawyer?"

Elijah considered the question.

"Something like that."

Sullivan laughed.

"Of course."

Elijah almost smiled.

Had Sullivan looked closely at the driver's license, the name might have meant something.

But Elijah Carter had never sought celebrity.

He rarely appeared outside formal Court settings. He avoided television interviews. His official photograph was nearly eight years old and showed him with darker hair and glasses he no longer wore.

Sullivan had no idea who stood before him.

And Elijah wasn't going to tell him simply to receive better treatment.

That mattered.

If Sullivan's conduct was appropriate, Elijah's occupation was irrelevant.

If it wasn't appropriate, Elijah's occupation was still irrelevant.

Sullivan pointed toward the curb.

"Sit."

Elijah looked at the concrete.

"I would prefer to stand."

"I didn't ask what you prefer."

"My knee makes sitting that low difficult."

Sullivan stepped closer.

"Sit down."

Grant intervened again.

"Dan, he's seventy-two."

"I heard him."

Elijah remained standing.

Sullivan grabbed his jacket again.

This time Elijah's voice changed.

"Remove your hand."

Sullivan froze.

The elderly man's voice was still quiet.

But suddenly it carried the unmistakable authority of someone accustomed to being heard in rooms where words had consequences.

Sullivan released him.

"What exactly do you do, Mr. Carter?"

Elijah reached slowly toward the inside pocket of his jacket.

Sullivan's posture stiffened.

"Hands!"

Elijah stopped.

"My identification is inside my jacket."

"What identification?"

Elijah looked directly at him.

"The kind you should probably see."

CHAPTER 5 — THE CREDENTIAL

Officer Grant stepped closer.

"I'll retrieve it."

Elijah nodded.

"Inside pocket. Left side."