“Run him.”
Terrence watched Langley sit at the computer.
“Name and date of birth.”
he said.
Terrence supplied both again.
Langley typed.
Nothing unusual appeared in the ordinary state system.
No warrants.
No criminal record.
Current vehicle registration.
Property address.
Nothing indicating fraud.
Langley frowned.
Carver leaned over.
“Military check?”
“I need the federal query.”
“Do it.”
Terrence spoke.
“If you contact the Defense Manpower Data Center or the appropriate federal verification office, my status can be confirmed.”
Carver turned.
“You seem to know a lot about how we should do our jobs.”
“I know how my own records are maintained.”
Langley typed into another system.
A loading icon spun.
Then stopped.
A message appeared in red.
RECORD RESTRICTED.
ADDITIONAL FEDERAL AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED.
Langley blinked.
He tried again.
Same message.
“Sergeant.”
Carver leaned closer.
“What?”
Langley pointed.
Carver stared at the warning.
Then looked toward Terrence.
Terrence stood exactly where he had been standing.
Hands relaxed.
No visible concern.
Carver’s suspicion should have weakened.
Instead, embarrassment made it stronger.
“Probably a system issue.”
he muttered.
Langley nodded quickly.
“Yeah.”
Terrence heard them.
“Or,” he said, “the record is protected.”
Carver turned.
“Why would your record be protected?”
Terrence held his gaze.
“Because portions of my service remain restricted.”
Langley laughed.
“Of course they do.”
Terrence looked at him.
That was the first moment impatience entered his eyes.
Not anger.
Something colder.
“You asked.”
Langley stood.
“Okay. Enough.”
He stepped around the counter.
“You’re going to wait in back while we verify this.”
Terrence glanced toward the front doors.
“I came here to report a stolen wallet.”
“And now you’re being detained.”
“On what legal basis?”
Carver joined Langley.
“Reasonable suspicion that you’re presenting forged military credentials.”
Terrence studied him.
“Are you arresting me?”
“Not yet.”
“Then am I free to leave?”
Carver did not answer immediately.
That hesitation mattered.
Terrence had spent his career around military lawyers, federal prosecutors, inspectors general, and congressional committees. He understood the value of forcing authority to define itself.
“Am I free to leave?”
he repeated.
Carver’s face hardened.
“No.”
“Then you are detaining me.”
“Yes.”
“Document the time.”
Langley stared.
“What?”
“Document the time the detention began.”
“You don’t give orders here.”
Terrence exhaled quietly.
“No.”
Then he turned.
“But your camera does.”
Doyle instinctively looked toward the lobby surveillance camera.
The red light was on.
Carver’s face tightened.
“Hands behind your back.”
The elderly woman in the waiting area gasped.
Terrence looked at Carver.
“You intend to handcuff me?”
“Standard safety.”
“I have been cooperative from the moment I entered.”
“Hands behind your back.”
Terrence could have argued.
He did not.
He placed the folder on the counter.
Then slowly turned.
His hands went behind him.
The cuffs closed.
Langley pulled them tighter than necessary.
Terrence looked over his shoulder.