He told himself that perhaps the officer had information he didn't.
Perhaps experience allowed Mercer to recognize danger that a younger deputy couldn't see.
Perhaps the problem was simply a harsh personality.
But on the afternoon he stopped my sedan, Bennett could no longer explain away what he was seeing.
He had watched me signal.
Pull over.
Keep my hands visible.
And answer questions without threatening anyone.
He had checked my registration.
There were no alerts.
The vehicle belonged to me.
The documents were current.
And he'd heard Mercer admit, in substance, that he stopped me because he wanted to investigate a suspicion he couldn't articulate.
Then Mercer smashed the window.
Bennett understood that the situation had crossed a line.
Not because the driver was important.
Because the force was unnecessary.
He knew that even if he said nothing, his own report would become part of the incident.
The question was whether he would describe what happened or write something that made his senior partner look justified.
And he had only seconds to decide.
After Mercer placed me in handcuffs, he began searching for my handbag.
I could hear him moving items on the passenger seat.
"Where's your phone?"
I looked toward him.
"In my bag."
He reached inside.
"What's this?"
I turned.
He was holding a black leather wallet.
My official credentials were inside.
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Please don't go through my belongings without documenting the legal basis."
Mercer ignored me.
He opened the wallet.
For a moment, he stared at the identification.
Then laughed.
"Look at this. She thinks she's somebody."
He handed it toward Bennett without reading closely.
"Check whether this is real."
The deputy took it.
He looked at the photograph.
Then at the credential.
His expression changed.
He read the appointment information.
Then looked toward me.
"Maya Dugan?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
He looked down again.
The identification identified me as the incoming Director of Professional Standards and Internal Affairs for the Carver County Sheriff's Office. The credential had been issued through the department's official administrative process and included verification details that could be checked through authorized channels.
Bennett stared.
For several seconds, he seemed unable to breathe.
Then he looked toward Mercer.
"Sir."
The older officer was examining the contents of my car.
"What?"
"Sir, look at this."
Mercer turned.
Bennett held up the identification.
"Her credentials are legitimate."
Mercer scoffed.
"What, she's a state investigator?"
Bennett shook his head.
"No."
His voice trembled slightly.
"She's the new director."
Mercer's expression changed.
For a moment, he looked confused.
Then he stared at the credential.