I reached into my heavy jacket pocket for my leather credential wallet.
I laid the heavy leather folder flat on the worn wooden counter. The gold seal of the federal government caught the harsh fluorescent light from the ceiling, reflecting a small yellow glare onto the glass partition.
Officer Davis did not touch the leather. He looked at my photograph, then at my face, and then down at the gold seal again. His shoulders dropped three inches as he took his hands out from behind his head.
“I was not aware we had federal interest in this family matter, Agent,” Davis said. His voice lost its easy drawl, turning dry and thin.
“My father is leaving with me,” I said. “And we are going to need the intake log.”
Davis reached for a blue ballpoint pen from a plastic cup. He did not look toward the corner of the lobby where Vanessa was still sitting, but his hand hovered over his desk for three seconds before he found his writing pad.
