Dalton's jaw tightened.
He stepped closer to her.
DALTON VOSS: "You really haven't understood your situation yet, have you?"
AMARA: "I understand it perfectly."
DALTON VOSS: "You're in my county. You're sitting in my town. And right now, you're going wherever I decide to take you."
Amara studied his face.
AMARA: "That is exactly the kind of statement someone makes when they believe nobody can question their authority."
Dalton leaned toward her.
DALTON VOSS: "Nobody around here questions me."
Amara's eyes briefly moved toward the deputy.
AMARA: "Perhaps that's the problem."
Ryan had now reached the wallet.
It was made of black leather, slightly thicker than an ordinary purse wallet.
He opened it carefully.
At first, he saw several identification cards and folded documents.
Then something metallic caught the light.
He paused.
Inside the wallet was a gold federal judicial badge.
Ryan stared at it.
He had seen law enforcement credentials before, but this was different.
The emblem was displayed alongside official identification bearing the seal of the United States government.
He turned the wallet slightly toward the light.
His expression changed.
The confident young deputy who had entered the diner with the sheriff was suddenly uncertain.
RYAN COLE: "Sheriff..."
Dalton did not look at him.
DALTON VOSS: "What now?"
Ryan swallowed.
He looked down at the identification again.
Then he raised his eyes toward Amara.
She was watching him quietly.
For the first time since the confrontation began, she appeared almost completely relaxed.
RYAN COLE: "Sheriff, I think you need to look at this."
Dalton finally turned around.
DALTON VOSS: "What did you find?"
Ryan held the wallet open.
The gold badge reflected the fluorescent ceiling lights.
Dalton's eyes moved toward it.
His expression changed almost imperceptibly.
The arrogance in his face began to fade.
He stepped closer.
DALTON VOSS: "Where did you get that?"
RYAN COLE: "It was inside her wallet."
Dalton looked at the identification again.
He reached toward it, then stopped.
Amara adjusted her wet blazer and calmly looked directly at him.
AMARA: "I believe you should read the identification before you make another decision."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
The diner remained silent.
Martha stood frozen behind the counter.
The customers watched from their booths.
Ryan continued holding the open wallet.
Dalton stared at the gold badge, trying to understand what he was looking at.
He had entered the diner believing he could intimidate an ordinary woman into submission.
Now, for the first time that afternoon, he seemed unsure of what to say.
And Amara Whitlock had not yet told him the full extent of the mistake he had made.
Dalton continued staring at the open wallet.
The gold federal judicial badge was unmistakable. Beneath it sat an official identification card bearing the seal of the United States government.
For a man who had spent years using his local authority to intimidate people, the discovery was deeply unsettling.
He leaned closer, attempting to read the identification.
His eyes moved across the printed name.
AMARA WHITLOCK.
Then he looked at the photograph.
The woman standing beside his deputy was the same person sitting in front of him, her cream-colored blazer still soaked with milk tea.
Dalton looked at her again.
DALTON VOSS: "What exactly is this supposed to be?"
Amara did not immediately answer.
She simply watched him.
AMARA WHITLOCK: "It's my identification. I would suggest you read it instead of questioning whether it's real."
Ryan turned the card slightly, allowing the sheriff to see the official details.
RYAN COLE: "Sheriff, this appears to be federal judicial identification."
DALTON VOSS: "I can see that."
RYAN COLE: "And the name matches her."
DALTON VOSS: "I said I can see it!"
Ryan immediately stopped speaking.
The sheriff snatched the wallet from his deputy's hands.
He examined the badge more carefully, then opened the identification compartment again.
His fingers were noticeably less steady than before.
AMARA: "You seemed very confident a few minutes ago."
Dalton ignored her.
He turned the identification card over, looking for additional information.
There was no obvious explanation that could make the situation disappear.
The federal seal was visible.
The badge was legitimate-looking.
The photograph matched the woman sitting in front of him.
And the name was clearly printed.
Amara Whitlock.
Dalton finally raised his head.
DALTON VOSS: "Are you telling me you're a federal judge?"