"Mercer, her registration checks out."
The senior officer didn't look back.
"Did I ask you?"
Bennett hesitated.
"No, sir."
"Then finish running the information."
I could see the younger deputy's jaw tighten.
Mercer turned his attention toward my handbag.
"What's in the bag?"
"My personal belongings."
"What kind of belongings?"
"My license, phone, wallet, keys, and other personal items."
He looked toward the rear of the car.
"What about the trunk?"
I took a slow breath.
"Personal belongings."
He smiled.
"You're being evasive."
"I'm answering your questions."
"No. You're getting smart with me."
I looked toward the police cruiser.
Its lights continued flashing.
Two vehicles passed in the opposite direction.
Neither stopped.
The road suddenly felt very empty.
Mercer pointed toward the rear of my sedan.
"Open the trunk."
I kept my voice steady.
"Officer, I do not consent to a search of my vehicle. If you have a lawful basis to search it, please explain what you're doing."
His face reddened.
"I don't need your permission."
I nodded slightly.
"Then please explain the basis."
For a moment, he seemed genuinely surprised.
I don't think he expected me to know the distinction between refusing consent and physically resisting an officer.
Then his expression changed.
He leaned closer.
"You're going to learn something today."
I felt a cold sensation move through my chest.
It wasn't fear of being arrested.
It was the recognition that the officer had stopped thinking about the law and started thinking about winning.
"Officer," I said carefully, "I'm willing to comply with lawful instructions. I am not agreeing to a search."
He stared.
Then turned toward Bennett.
"You seeing this?"
The deputy looked uncomfortable.
"Sir, I haven't found anything indicating—"
Mercer interrupted.
"She's refusing to cooperate."
I looked toward Bennett.
"Deputy, please note that I have offered to exit the vehicle and provide my documents. I am declining consent to a search."
Bennett nodded.
"I heard you."
Mercer snapped toward him.
"Don't encourage her."
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then I asked for a supervisor.
It was a simple request.
"Officer, please contact your shift supervisor."
Mercer laughed.
"You think you get to demand a supervisor every time somebody asks you a question?"
"I'm requesting one because this encounter is escalating."
He leaned toward the opening again.
"Lady, you haven't seen escalating."
I looked at the black baton on his belt.
Then back at his face.
"Please don't make this worse."
His eyes changed.
Something in that sentence offended him more deeply than anything I'd said.
He straightened.
Then reached for the door handle.