Hannah looked first at the Department of Justice seal and then at the printed information beneath it. She did not look impressed or frightened, which Malcolm appreciated. She asked to see his identification, opened the credential wallet only as far as she needed, and compared his name with the service sheet. The information matched, and the verification number was displayed clearly beneath the issuing office's contact details.
"I can call Captain Weller's office," she said. "Will you wait here a moment?"
"Of course."
There was nothing theatrical about the exchange. Hannah had not been asked to accept a stranger's word; she had been offered a way to authenticate it. Malcolm had not demanded access to the building or insisted that the mere sight of a federal seal should open every door. The document named a specific recipient, and that recipient worked only a short distance beyond the locked hallway entrance. If the process continued as designed, the handoff would be completed, recorded, and finished without anyone having much to remember about it by lunchtime.
At least, that was what Malcolm had hoped.
Officer Travis Morrow appeared from the interior hallway before Hannah finished lifting the receiver. At forty, Travis had been with East Ridge for eleven years, long enough to wear his authority like a second uniform. He had a compact build, carefully trimmed hair, and the habit of approaching conversations as though arriving late to an argument he had already won. He stopped beside Hannah's desk, glanced at the envelope, and then examined Malcolm from shoes to face. His eyes stayed a moment longer on Malcolm's coat and the old leather case than on the federal seal.
"What's this?" Travis asked.
"Federal process for Captain Weller," Hannah answered. "I'm verifying the credential and calling his office."
"I'll handle it," Travis said.
He reached across the counter and lifted Malcolm's credential wallet before Hannah could return it. Malcolm made no move to stop him, though the unnecessary gesture did not escape his notice. Travis opened the wallet, looked at the photograph, then at Malcolm, then back at the photograph. The inspection lasted barely two seconds, far too briefly to establish anything meaningful.
"You can wait outside," Travis said, sliding the wallet back.
Malcolm looked toward the lobby doors. A woman carrying a folder of accident photographs was coming through them with rain on her sleeves. Beyond her, the parking lot glistened under a low gray sky. He turned back to Travis.
"Officer Bell has a verification number, and Captain Weller is the named recipient," Malcolm said. "I can wait at the desk while you complete the process."
"I didn't ask where you wanted to wait."
Hannah still held the receiver in one hand. "The captain's extension is available, Travis. I can have somebody come down."
Travis raised his palm toward her, an economical gesture that ended the suggestion before it became a decision. "Don't call him yet."