"Kendrick went to dinner. Sergeant said you can make your call now." Darius stood up and walked to the bars. "Open it."
Brooks unlocked the cell and led him to a wall phone in the hallway. "You got five minutes, local calls only." Darius picked up the receiver. He didn't dial a lawyer. He didn't dial a family member.
He dialed a number he had memorized for absolute emergencies, a direct line to the Pentagon Special Operations Command watch floor. It rang twice.
"Watch officer, Lieutenant Commander Hale," a crisp voice answered. "Hale, this is Commander Darius Kane. Authorization code Sierra Tango 940 Zulu. I am currently being held unlawfully by the Ironwood County Sheriff's Department. I have been assaulted and my uniform has been desecrated."
There was a silence on the other end, followed by the rapid clicking of a keyboard.
"Confirmed. Commander Kane, we show you. Good God, sir, are you injured?" "Negative, just detained. The arresting officer is Deputy Royce Kendrick.
He believes I am a stolen valor case. He destroyed my Trident." "He did what?" The voice on the other end hardened. "Sir, where are you exactly?"
"Ironwood County Jail, Texas."
"Sit tight, Commander. Do not say another word to them. I am waking up the admiral." "And, sir?" "Yes?"
"We're coming to get you." Darius hung up the phone. He turned to look at Officer Brooks, who was watching him with wide, fearful eyes.
"Who was that?" Brooks asked. Darius walked back to his cell and sat down. "That was the United States government, son, and they are very upset."
The next morning, the sun rose over Ironwood with the same oppressive heat. But inside the sheriff's station, the atmosphere had shifted. It was subtle at first. A fax machine that wouldn't stop printing. A phone line that kept ringing with no one on the other end.
Sheriff Harlan Voss walked in carrying a large coffee and a bag of donuts. He was a massive man, the kind who had played football in high school and never let anyone forget it. He ran the county like his personal fiefdom. "Morning, boys," Voss grunted, walking past the dispatch desk. "Quiet night?"
Kendrick was sitting at his desk, feet up, scrolling through his phone. "Easy peasy, Sheriff. Bagged a lunatic in a Navy outfit at Big Al's yesterday. Guy thinks he's a SEAL." Voss chuckled.
"Another one? People are crazy. Did you check him out?" "Nah, didn't need to," Kendrick said dismissively. "Fake ID, fake attitude.
I let him rot in cell three overnight. Figured we'd arraign him this morning, give the judge a laugh."