He retrieved his Georgia driver’s license.
Behind it, he placed his Department of Defense identification.
He offered both through the window.
Speck took them without looking.
“You know why I stopped you?”
“I’d like to hear your reason.”
Speck’s eyes narrowed.
“Lane violation.”
Bowford glanced toward the road.
“I remained within my lane.”
“You crossed the center line south of Linden Road.”
“I did not.”
Cowell shifted slightly behind Speck.
He had been watching the SUV before the stop.
He had not seen the vehicle cross any line.
Speck continued.
“Could be impairment.”
“I have consumed no alcohol.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“Fort Caldwell.”
That made Speck finally look at the cards.
Driver’s license first.
Then the second identification.
The holographic federal seal reflected his flashlight.
Speck rotated it between two fingers.
Read the rank.
Read the installation.
Then looked at Bowford.
“What is this?”
Bowford’s expression remained neutral.
“A valid Department of Defense identification card.”
Speck lifted it.
“You trying to pull some veteran thing on me?”
“No.”
“Think this gets you out of a stop?”
“No.”
“Then why give it to me?”
“Because it identifies me and explains my destination.”
Speck gave a short laugh.
Bowford continued.
“It identifies me as a colonel in the United States Army and deputy installation commander at Fort Caldwell.”
Speck stared at him.
Then, very deliberately, opened his fingers.
The card fell.
It struck the pavement.
Slid several feet.
Stopped near the SUV’s front tire.
Cowell looked at it.
Then at Speck.
Something inside him tightened.
Speck said:
“Step out.”
Bowford remained seated.
“Am I under arrest?”
“You’re being detained.”
“For?”
“Possible DUI.”
“I have not been drinking.”
“And possible fraudulent federal identification.”
Cowell could not stay silent.
“Arno.”
Speck turned.
Cowell pointed toward the card.
“It looks real.”
Speck’s expression hardened.
“Did I ask?”
Cowell stopped.
Bowford opened the door.
He stepped out slowly.
At six-foot-two, he stood slightly taller than Speck.
That seemed to aggravate the officer immediately.
“Turn around.”
Bowford did.
“Hands on the roof.”
He placed both palms flat on the SUV.
Fingers spread.
Speck positioned himself behind him.
Cowell walked toward the dropped identification.
He picked it up.
Studied the hologram.
Turned it over.
Checked the embedded chip.
The photograph.
The expiration date.
Then looked toward Speck.
“Arno.”
No answer.