Langford squinted at the license in his hand, reading off the birth date.
"Copy that, Four Bravo. Stand by," the dispatcher replied.
Langford drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, looking at Elias in the rearview mirror. "Let us see what you are hiding, old man."
A minute passed, then two. Usually a background check through the state database took less than 30 seconds. Suddenly, the radio crackled, but it was not the dispatcher. The voice was deeper, authoritative, and carried an undeniable edge of panic. It was the night-shift watch commander.
"Unit Four Bravo, Officer Langford. Do you have Elias Whitaker in handcuffs? Answer me right now."
Langford frowned. Why was command jumping on the channel?
"Command, Four Bravo. Name is Whitaker, Elias. DOB is..." He repeated the numbers.
The radio went dead for five excruciating seconds. When the voice came back, it was practically shouting. "Unit Four Bravo, Officer Langford, do you have Elias Whitaker in handcuffs?"
Langford hesitated, a sudden icy prickle of unease forming at the base of his neck. "Uh, affirmative, Command. He is secured in the back of my vehicle pending..."
"Langford, listen to me very carefully," the watch commander interrupted, his voice shaking. "Do not speak to him. Do not touch him. You are to immediately uncuff that man.
You have just detained the Chief Justice of the State Supreme Court. The Chief of Police is on his way to your location right now. Do you copy?"
The blood drained from Bryce Langford's face, leaving him ashen. The cruiser was dead silent, save for the idle of the engine. Langford slowly looked up into the rearview mirror. Through the wire mesh, Chief Justice Elias Whitaker was looking right back at him, his eyes like chipped obsidian.
The silence inside the police cruiser was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic mechanical hum of the engine and the harsh synthetic crackle of the two-way radio. The watch commander's final words hung in the stale air, a terrifying death knell echoing in the confined space. Chief Justice of the State Supreme Court.
Officer Bryce Langford could not breathe. It felt as though all the oxygen had been instantly vacuumed from the cabin. The heavy Maglite flashlight he had so arrogantly wielded moments ago slipped from his numb fingers, clattering loudly against the plastic center console before tumbling to the floor mat.
A cold, prickling sweat erupted across his forehead, the kind of visceral, biological terror that strikes when a predator suddenly realizes it has stepped blindly into a steel trap. He stared at the rearview mirror, his eyes wide and bloodshot through the perforated steel mesh of the partition.