The woman held his stare.
"The federal judge scheduled to hear your department's case in forty minutes."
Silence.
The younger deputy stopped moving.
The senior deputy stared at her.
Then he laughed again.
But this time there was uncertainty behind it.
"Federal judge."
"Yes."
"You expect me to believe a federal judge rides around dressed like this?"
"I wasn't aware judicial appointments included wardrobe restrictions on Saturdays."
"It's Tuesday."
"I know."
The deputy's smile disappeared.
She continued.
"And I'm due at the federal courthouse downtown at eleven."
The younger deputy looked at his watch.
10:21 a.m.
His face changed.
The senior deputy noticed.
"Don't."
The younger deputy lowered his voice.
"Maybe we should verify."
"Verify what?"
"Her identity."
"We already ran her."
"The state system doesn't necessarily list occupation."
The woman spoke quietly.
"Correct."
The senior deputy turned toward her.
"You stay quiet."
She smiled faintly.
"You asked who I was."
The Verification
The senior deputy marched toward his cruiser.
He entered the woman's information into another system.
Nothing unusual appeared.
Driver's license.
Vehicle registration.
Address.
No criminal record.
He returned with an expression of satisfaction.
"Nice try."
The woman tilted her head.
"Which database did you check?"
He stopped.
"Excuse me?"
"The state driver system?"
"That's none of your concern."
"So yes."
She looked toward the younger deputy.
"Call the United States District Court clerk's office."
The younger deputy hesitated.
The senior deputy immediately snapped:
"Nobody is calling anybody."
The woman studied him.
"Interesting."
"What?"
"You seem remarkably afraid of verification for someone who believes I'm lying."
The deputy's face reddened.
He reached for his radio.
"Transport unit to checkpoint."
The younger deputy stepped closer.
"Sergeant."
"What?"
"Maybe wait."
The senior deputy turned.