Polished heels.
He seemed irritated by something he could not name.
“Registration.”
“Glove compartment.”
“Get it.”
She reached.
Removed the papers.
He took them.
The vehicle was registered to a corporate entity.
That made him stop.
“Car isn’t yours.”
“It belongs to my company.”
“What company?”
The Woman named it.
The Officer looked unimpressed.
“What do they do?”
“Risk-management technology.”
He looked toward the dashboard.
“Fancy way of saying surveillance?”
“Sometimes.”
The answer produced the smallest flicker in his face.
Then it disappeared.
He looked back toward the patrol SUV.
The younger Officer stood watching.
The Senior Officer returned his gaze.
“You know why I stopped you?”
“No.”
“You drifted.”
“Across which line?”
The question came calmly.
His expression changed immediately.
“Excuse me?”
“Which line did I cross?”
“You questioning the stop?”
“I’m asking what happened.”
“You crossed the shoulder line.”
The Woman glanced toward the road.
“I don’t believe I did.”
The Senior Officer stepped closer.
“You calling me a liar?”
“No.”
“Sounds like it.”
The Woman remained still.
He looked inside the sedan again.
Then inhaled dramatically.
“What’s that smell?”
The Woman frowned.
“What smell?”
He leaned closer.
“Marijuana?”
“No.”
“You been smoking?”
“No.”
“Anyone else been in this vehicle?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“My assistant drove it yesterday.”
The Officer nodded slowly as though that answer pleased him.
“I’m going to need you out of the vehicle.”
The Woman stared at him.
“For an alleged lane violation?”
“For investigation.”
“Do you have probable cause?”
The Officer’s eyes hardened.
“Step out.”
The Woman looked toward the younger cop again.
Then opened the door.
She stepped onto the shoulder.
Traffic rushed past.
Hot air moved across the grass.
The Senior Officer pointed toward the front fender.
“Stand there.”
She did.
He looked toward her handbag.
“Mind if I search the vehicle?”
“Yes.”
He seemed almost disappointed she understood the question.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I mind.”
“So you don’t consent.”
“I do not consent.”
The Officer stared.
“People with nothing to hide usually cooperate.”
The Woman’s expression remained flat.
“People with rights usually know they have them.”
The younger Officer looked down.
The Senior Officer noticed.
His jaw tightened.
“You want to make this hard?”
“No.”
“You are.”
The Woman folded her hands in front of her.
“I’m standing where you told me.”
The Officer looked toward the car.
Then toward her.
“I smell narcotics.”
“I don’t.”
“That’s because you’re used to it.”
The Woman almost smiled.
Not amusement.