“Face the vehicle.”
“You're arresting me?”
“Turn around.”
Maya's voice tightened.
“Officer, please verify the VIN before you do this.”
Miller stepped closer.
“Hands behind your back.”
People had begun gathering now.
A woman near the coffee shop lifted her phone.
A man across the street stopped walking.
Maya saw all of them.
That made everything worse.
She turned toward her car.
“This is insane.”
Miller grabbed her wrist.
Hard.
Maya gasped.
“Don't pull me.”
“Hands behind your back.”
“You're hurting me.”
“Stop resisting.”
Maya twisted slightly.
“I am not resisting. You're twisting my arm.”
Evans took one step forward.
“Miller.”
The older officer ignored him.
Maya's heel caught against a crack beside the curb.
She stumbled.
Her hip struck the side of her own car.
Miller grabbed the back of her dress.
Maya felt his fist close around the silk.
Her eyes widened.
“Don't.”
Miller pulled.
“Stand still.”
Maya twisted toward him.
“Don't you dare touch my dress.”
For one second, they looked directly at each other.
Maya would remember his expression for years.
Not panic.
Not confusion.
Not the expression of someone trying to control a dangerous situation.
Irritation.
Almost contempt.
As if she had inconvenienced him by refusing to become frightened quietly.
Then Miller yanked the fabric.
The silk tore.
The sound was sharp enough that three people in the crowd visibly flinched.
Maya froze.
The tear ran from behind her shoulder toward her waist.
The dark inner lining kept her covered, but the sensation of cold air against the torn fabric was enough.
Her hand immediately flew toward the front of the dress.
She clutched it against herself.
“What did you do?”
Her voice broke.
Miller pulled her other arm behind her.
“Hands back.”
“You ripped my dress!”
“You should've complied.”
Maya stared at him.
For the first time, tears filled her eyes.
Not from fear.
From humiliation.
From rage.
From the impossible realization that this was happening in daylight, beside her own car, while strangers watched.
“You did that on purpose.”
Miller reached for his handcuffs.
“Keep talking.”
“You did that on purpose!”
He closed one cuff around her wrist.
Behind him, Officer Evans stood completely still.
His face had gone pale.
Maya looked past Miller.
Their eyes met.
Evans looked horrified.
Then his eyes moved downward.
Toward his chest.
The red light on his body camera was still blinking.
Evans looked back at Miller.
Something changed in his face.
Not courage.
Not yet.
Recognition.
He had recorded it.
Miller had not noticed.
“Put her in the car,” Miller ordered.
Evans didn't move.
Miller turned.
“Evans.”
The rookie blinked.