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Tom let out a booming laugh, signaling to his two subordinate officers. “Look at this, boys. We’ve got a social justice warrior here. Tell you what, pretty lady… since you want to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, why don’t you pay his fine? Better yet, you can both come down to the precinct. Let’s see how brave you are in a holding cell.”
Mike, the driver, was shaking uncontrollably, whispering to Sarah, “Please, ma’am, don’t provoke him! He will ruin us both!”
But Sarah didn’t move an inch. Instead, she reached into her small handbag.
Part 3: The Badge
Seeing her reach into her bag, Tom’s hand instinctively dropped to his holster. “Hands where I can see them! Now!” he yelled, trying to assert dominance.
Sarah slowly pulled her hand out, but she wasn’t holding a weapon. Wrapped in her palm was a heavy, gold shield. She flipped it open, holding it inches from Tom’s face.
The gold badge gleamed in the afternoon sun: New York City Police Department — Captain. LawEnforcement
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