Then he noticed the patrol car.
It entered Riverside Drive from a side street two blocks behind him.
At first Marcus thought nothing of it.
He maintained thirty-five miles per hour.
The cruiser did the same.
He changed lanes near a line of parked cars.
The cruiser followed.
Marcus watched through the rearview mirror.
Fifty feet.
No closer.
No farther.
Matching him exactly.
Years of federal work had taught Marcus to pay attention to patterns before conclusions.
A police vehicle following for two blocks was not a crime.
It was not even unusual.
But something in the deliberate spacing bothered him.
He checked his speed.
Thirty-four.
Registration current.
Vehicle lights functioning.
Government fleet plate visible.
He continued.
Red and blue lights suddenly flashed across the rear window.
Marcus exhaled once.
“Of course.”
He signaled immediately.
Pulled onto the shoulder beneath a streetlamp.
Placed the transmission in park.
Turned the engine off.
Lowered the driver’s window halfway.
Then rested both hands on the steering wheel.
Through the mirror, he watched two officers exit.
The first was older, thick through the shoulders, with sergeant stripes and a gray mustache.
The nameplate read MERCER.
The younger officer followed several steps behind.
DANNER.
Danner’s right hand remained near his duty belt.
Not gripping anything.
Just close.
Mercer approached the driver’s window.
Marcus waited.
The sergeant looked into the SUV.