At first, only confusion.
Then disbelief.
Then something closer to fear.
He looked at Terrence.
Then at the card.
Then again at Terrence.
“You’re FBI?”
Terrence answered:
“You already asked what I did.”
“You said federal government.”
“Yes.”
Mercer stood.
“Why didn’t you say FBI?”
Terrence stared at him.
“You never needed to know.”
Mercer’s cheeks flushed.
“You deliberately withheld it.”
“I answered your question truthfully.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“Why?”
Mercer looked around.
As if searching for the correct answer.
He did not find one.
Terrence continued.
“Would it have changed whether my truck smelled like marijuana?”
Mercer said nothing.
“Would it have changed whether my registration was valid?”
Nothing.
“Would it have changed whether you had legal cause to destroy my belongings?”
Mercer’s grip tightened around the credential wallet.
Then the sound of tires came from behind them.
Benson turned.
Two black SUVs were slowing rapidly in the right lane.
Unmarked.
Dark windows.
The first SUV passed the patrol vehicle.
Brake lights flashed.
It pulled onto the shoulder.
The second followed.
Mercer’s face tightened.
“Friends of yours?”
Terrence looked.
Recognized the lead vehicle immediately.
Special Agent Monica Reyes was driving.
What were the odds?
Not coincidence exactly.
Terrence had been expected at a field coordination meeting later that afternoon near Oak Ridge.
Reyes and her team had been traveling the same corridor.
They had not known about the stop.
Until now.
The lead SUV door opened.
Reyes stepped out.
Dark suit.
Federal credentials visible at her waist.
Two other agents emerged behind her.
Then three from the second vehicle.
They looked first at Terrence.
Then the police cruiser.
Then the roadside debris.
Then the destroyed cake.
Reyes stopped walking.
Her expression changed.
“Terrence?”
Mercer looked at him.
Terrence looked back at Reyes.
“I’m fine.”
Reyes walked closer.
“What happened?”
Mercer stepped forward.
“Traffic investigation.”
Reyes looked at the pickup.
Then at the clothing, papers, groceries, and gifts spread across the gravel.
“Investigation of what?”
Mercer straightened.
“Possible contraband.”
Reyes looked at Terrence.
“Found?”
“No.”
She looked back at Mercer.
“Then why is everything on the highway?”
Mercer’s face hardened.
“I had probable cause.”
Terrence said:
“He claimed marijuana odor.”
Reyes looked toward the truck.
Then toward Benson.
“Did you smell marijuana?”
Benson swallowed.
Mercer snapped:
“Officer Benson is not running this stop.”
Reyes looked at Benson.
“I asked him.”
Benson stared at Mercer.
Then at Terrence.
Then answered.
“No.”
Mercer turned.
“What?”
Benson’s voice shook slightly.
“I did not smell marijuana.”
Mercer stepped toward him.
“Think carefully.”
Benson did.
Then repeated:
“I did not smell marijuana.”
The agents behind Reyes exchanged looks.