Disbelief.
“You don’t know me.”
“I know enough.”
He opened the rear door.
The Woman spoke immediately.
“I do not consent to a search.”
“I heard you.”
“Then close the door.”
The Officer ignored her.
The younger cop finally stepped closer.
“Sergeant.”
The Senior Officer turned.
“What?”
The younger Officer hesitated.
“Maybe K-9?”
The Sergeant stared.
“You telling me how to do my stop?”
“No.”
“Then stay by the cruiser.”
The younger Officer stopped.
The Woman watched.
Important.
Not merely what the Sergeant was doing.
What his partner was not doing.
The Sergeant began searching.
Back seat first.
Under floor mats.
Door pockets.
Center armrest.
Nothing.
Then the passenger seat.
The Woman stood twenty feet away.
She could see him through the open driver’s door and across the glossy bodywork.
More importantly, she could see his reflection.
His right hand disappeared briefly beneath the front of his vest.
Not toward his radio.
Not toward a pocket used for gloves.
His fingers emerged holding something small.
Clear plastic.
He looked over his shoulder.
The younger Officer was looking toward traffic.
The Sergeant lowered his hand.
Reached under the passenger seat.
Released something.
The Woman’s eyes sharpened.
Her expression did not change.
That mattered.
The Sergeant stood.
Moved around the open door.
Then pretended to search beneath the same seat again.
This time his hand came out holding a clear plastic evidence bag.
White powder inside.
His face transformed theatrically.
“Well, well.”
The younger Officer looked over.
The Sergeant held the bag up.
“Look what we found.”
The Woman did not speak.
He stepped toward her.
“Still want to tell me there’s nothing in the car?”
The Woman looked at the bag.
Then at him.
“You put that there.”
The Sergeant smiled.
“That your story?”
“It’s what happened.”
The Sergeant stepped closer.
“You understand how stupid that sounds?”
“I understand what I saw.”
He grabbed her wrist.
Hard.
The Woman’s body tightened.
She did not pull away.
The Sergeant twisted her arm slightly and pushed her toward the sedan.
Her hip struck the side panel.
“Hands on the roof.”
The younger Officer took another step.
“Sergeant…”
The Sergeant snapped:
“Back.”
The younger man froze.
The Woman placed one palm against the roof.
Then another.
Her face remained controlled.
The Sergeant leaned toward her ear.
“You should’ve just cooperated.”
The Woman looked through the windshield.
At the small black lens mounted beside the rearview mirror.
The Sergeant followed her gaze for half a second.
He still did not understand.
She spoke quietly.
“You should have checked the vehicle.”
He laughed.
“I did.”
“No.”
She turned her head slightly.
“You should have checked what was recording.”
The Sergeant’s grip changed.
Not fear yet.