Mercer stood beside the hood, his face flushed beneath the broad brim of his campaign hat. Barrett's hand remained against my shoulder, but the pressure had weakened enough that I could straighten slightly.
Adrian looked at the younger deputy.
“Remove your hand.”
Barrett glanced toward Mercer.
The sergeant didn't speak.
Barrett stepped backward.
I slowly lifted myself from the hood.
My shoulder hurt. My left palm had been scraped against the edge of the metal, and one side of my gown was covered with dust. The fabric had twisted around my legs when Mercer pulled me from the driver's seat.
But I stood upright.
I wasn't going to give either deputy the satisfaction of watching me struggle to recover my composure.
Adrian approached.
“Renee, are you injured?”
“I need my shoulder checked.”
His expression tightened.
Then he turned toward the deputies.
“Did either of you establish a lawful basis for this detention beyond the original traffic stop?”
Mercer straightened.
“Sir, we had information about this vehicle.”
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“What information?”
The sergeant hesitated.
“Possible suspicious activity.”
I looked directly at him.
“What activity?”
Mercer glared.
I continued.
“You've been asked several times to identify the reason for the stop. You haven't provided one.”
Barrett shifted nervously.
Mercer looked toward Adrian.
“She's interfering with an investigation.”
Adrian remained calm.
“Then explain the investigation.”
The sergeant opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then pointed toward the patrol cruiser.
“Dispatch told us to stop the vehicle.”
I felt something cold move through my chest.
Dispatch.
That changed things.
If this had been an ordinary traffic stop, Mercer's conduct would have been a serious problem on its own.
But he was now claiming the stop originated through a dispatch instruction.
And I knew our witness worked in that very dispatch system.
Adrian looked toward the other federal agents.
“Preserve the relevant communications and recordings through the proper channels.”
One nodded.
Mercer became defensive.
“You can't just seize county equipment.”
Adrian didn't raise his voice.
“Nobody is seizing anything without lawful authority. We're making sure evidence is preserved.”
The sergeant looked toward the highway.
A truck passed, sending a gust of wind across the shoulder.
For the first time, I noticed the number of people watching from stopped vehicles farther down the road.
One driver held a phone near his steering wheel.
Another had pulled into a service entrance and appeared to be speaking with someone.
My humiliation had become public.
I could feel it.
The heat in my face.
The knowledge that strangers had seen two deputies treating me like a criminal.
I wanted to disappear.
But another thought came immediately afterward.