Hask spent the short drive talking about outsiders who thought they could come through his county without answering to anybody. Nolan stared through the windshield at familiar storefronts and houses. He had heard the same remarks before, but the certainty with which the sheriff described strangers as potential trouble still unsettled him. When they turned into the diner's gravel lot, he saw a man sitting by the window, fork in hand, reading something between bites. There was nothing to suggest an emergency.
The bell above the diner door rang when Hask pushed it open. Conversation did not stop all at once; it faded as customers recognized the sheriff's expression and moved their attention away from whatever he had come to do. Estelle felt the room change before he spoke. She watched Nolan enter behind him and stand half a step inside the door, his eyes moving from the stranger to the sheriff. Adrien continued reading until Hask's shadow crossed his plate.
"Tell me what you're doing in my town," the sheriff said. He struck the table with his palm, sending a spoon against the rim of a saucer. Adrien looked up after the coffee settled, took in the badge and nameplate, and answered that he had stopped for lunch. Hask scanned the papers, the jacket, and the car visible outside. "A long way to come for catfish," he said, as though distance could itself be evidence of wrongdoing.
"I was passing through," Adrien said. He made no attempt to disguise his annoyance, but neither did he raise his voice. "Is there a complaint about something I've done?" A refrigerator motor started near the kitchen, filling the pause that followed. Hask's jaw shifted as he decided how much explanation the man deserved.
"Let me see your identification." Adrien kept his hands on the table. "Am I suspected of a crime, Sheriff?" Hask leaned forward far enough that the edge of his duty belt touched the booth. "You're suspected of making this difficult," he replied. The answer confirmed more than it explained.
Adrien had learned not to mistake an officer's irritation for legal authority. He also knew that many ordinary encounters could become dangerous when one person needed the other to appear submissive. He looked at the nameplate and said, "Sheriff Hask, I'm asking why you approached me. I'll answer reasonable questions, but I'd like to understand what this is about."
Hask tapped the star on his chest. "This is my county. That should answer your question."
"It doesn't," Adrien said. He watched the sheriff's face harden and understood that this was no longer a conversation about anything a caller might have seen. A customer by the door quietly gathered his keys, while a man at the counter stopped reading the newspaper. Estelle set down the coffee pot so she would not have to carry it if the scene got worse.