The first thing Commander Marcus Reed heard after hot coffee splashed across his face was laughter.
Not an apology.
Not a startled gasp.
Laughter.
Officer Noah Briggs stood three feet away, holding an empty paper cup and grinning as though he had just performed a clever trick for an appreciative audience.
“OOPS!
MY BAD!
DID I GET YOU?”
The morning crowd outside Riverton Police Headquarters stopped moving.
A delivery driver paused beside his truck.
A woman carrying grocery bags turned toward the granite steps.
Two college students lowered their phones, suddenly uncertain whether they were witnessing a joke or something much worse.
Marcus stood perfectly still.
Coffee dripped from his black bomber jacket onto the pale sidewalk.
His skin stung, but he refused to give Briggs the satisfaction of watching him panic.
He slowly wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket.
“What the hell is your problem?”
Briggs laughed again.
“You people always come around here acting like you own the place.”
Marcus studied the officer’s face.
He saw arrogance, impatience, and the unmistakable confidence of a man who believed his uniform protected him from consequences.
It was an expression Marcus had spent nearly twenty-seven years trying to eliminate from the profession he loved.
“Step aside,” Marcus said.
Briggs moved closer instead.
“Did you not hear me?”
“I heard you perfectly.”
“Then why are you still standing here?”
Marcus glanced toward the headquarters entrance.
Behind the glass doors, officers and civilian employees moved through the security checkpoint.
None of them seemed aware of what was happening outside.
“I have business inside,” Marcus replied.
Briggs looked him up and down.
“Not dressed like that, you don’t.”