“No one told me to come anywhere.”
“Bullshit.”
“Officer, you stopped me.”
Keller grabbed her upper arm.
At the tire shop, Marcus immediately straightened.
Rebecca said:
“Threshold?”
“Not yet.”
“He's touching her.”
“She hasn't signaled.”
Marcus hated the words even while saying them.
Nia could end this.
One tap on the crown of her watch.
They would move.
But she did not tap.
Because Keller had asked:
Who told you to come here?
That mattered.
Nia kept her voice level.
“Take your hand off me.”
Keller tightened his grip.
“Turn around.”
“Am I detained?”
“Turn around.”
“For what?”
He shoved her toward the cruiser.
Her palm struck the wet metal.
Not enough to injure her.
Enough to send anger through her body like an electric current.
“Officer.”
“Hands on the car.”
She obeyed.
His body camera was less than two feet from her face.
She looked directly at the blinking red indicator.
“State the reason for detention.”
Keller leaned closer.
“You don't tell me how to do my job.”
“Then do it.”
For one second, his hand tightened around her arm.
Nia knew she had pushed.
She also knew every word was being preserved somewhere he could not erase.
Keller said:
“We've had reports of narcotics movement through this station.”
That was new.
No such report existed.
Nia said:
“From whom?”
“None of your business.”
“What description?”
“Turn around.”
“You said narcotics movement. What description connected me?”
Keller shoved her again.
Harder.
Her hip struck the cruiser.
Inside the store, Dylan whispered:
“Jesus.”
He grabbed his phone.
Then stopped.
His father had told him never to interfere with Keller.
But the woman outside was alone.
Dylan started recording through the glass.
Keller pointed toward Nia’s SUV.
“You know what I think?”
“No.”
“I think women driving seventy-thousand-dollar trucks at midnight with no luggage usually got something going on.”
Nia almost laughed.
The SUV cost more than that.
Instead she asked:
“Is that your probable cause?”
Keller’s face hardened.
“Maybe I smell weed.”
“You don't.”
“What?”
“You don't smell marijuana because there isn't any.”
Keller stepped closer.
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“Yes.”
The word escaped before strategy could stop it.
Silence.
Rain hammered the canopy.
Keller’s jaw moved.
Nia saw the decision happen.
Not a legal decision.
A personal one.
His right hand reached toward his belt.
She expected cuffs.
Instead he drew the pepper spray.
Nia’s entire body sharpened.
“Officer, I have federal credentials in my left pocket.”
“Hands where I can see them.”
“They are.”
“Don't reach.”
“I am not reaching.”
Keller grabbed the front of her coat with his left hand.
Nia stepped backward instinctively.