"Officers!" he called. "I've got a situation under control!"
Nobody appeared reassured.
The senior trooper approached with measured steps.
His eyes moved from the broken glass to the baton.
Then to the woman standing beside the vehicle.
"Ma'am, are you injured?"
She looked toward the deputy.
"My arm hurts. He shoved me against the door."
The deputy laughed nervously.
"Now hold on. That's not what happened."
The trooper didn't argue.
He turned toward the deputy.
"Sir, please put the baton away and step clear of the vehicle."
The deputy frowned.
"Excuse me?"
"Step clear of the vehicle."
The words were calm.
Firm.
And unmistakably serious.
The deputy looked toward the woman again.
Then back at the trooper.
"You don't understand. This lady was interfering with a county investigation."
The woman raised an eyebrow.
"What investigation?"
The deputy turned toward her.
"Don't start."
The trooper held up one hand.
"Sir, don't address her right now."
The deputy's face reddened.
"I'm a sheriff's deputy in my own jurisdiction."
The trooper nodded.
"Then you understand the importance of following instructions while we establish what occurred."
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The wind stirred the pine trees.
Glass glittered across the road.
And the woman in the olive-green gown stood beside her damaged Rolls-Royce, watching the deputy struggle to comprehend why the situation had suddenly escaped his control.
Then the woman in civilian clothes approached.
She was in her early forties, wearing a charcoal blazer, dark trousers, and practical shoes.
She displayed her identification to the deputy.
"Georgia Bureau of Investigation."
The deputy's face changed completely.
The investigator looked toward the shattered window.
Then toward the woman.
"Are you all right?"
The woman nodded.
"I will be."
The investigator's expression softened for a moment.
Then she turned toward the deputy.
"Tell me why you stopped this vehicle."
He swallowed.
"Traffic violation."
"What violation?"
The deputy hesitated.
"Suspicious driving."
The investigator waited.
He cleared his throat.
"Possible failure to maintain lane."
The woman looked down the perfectly straight stretch of asphalt.
Then looked toward the investigator.
"Would you like the vehicle footage?"
The deputy's expression tightened.
"What footage?"
The woman didn't answer him.
She looked toward the black Rolls-Royce.
Then said something that made him feel colder than the wind moving through the trees.
"The cameras recorded the entire stop."
The deputy stared at the vehicle.
The woman continued.
"Including what you said before you broke the window."
His mouth opened.
Then closed.
The investigator looked toward the shattered glass.
"Deputy, I need you to remain available while we document this incident."