Mitchell immediately grabbed his upper arm.
Daniel did not resist.
“Hands on the vehicle.”
Daniel placed his palms on the Tahoe.
Mitchell kicked his feet slightly apart.
Pat-down.
Waist.
Pockets.
Ankles.
Nothing.
Barnes stood six feet away.
Daniel looked toward him.
Barnes looked uncomfortable.
Mitchell finished.
“No weapons.”
Daniel said nothing.
Mitchell moved toward the open driver's door.
Daniel turned his head.
“What are you doing?”
Mitchell sniffed exaggeratedly.
Then smiled.
“Marijuana.”
Daniel stared.
“There has never been marijuana in that vehicle.”
“Sure.”
“I do not consent to a search.”
Mitchell laughed.
“Don't need it.”
Daniel looked toward Barnes.
“Officer Barnes.”
Barnes met his eyes.
“You smell marijuana?”
Barnes hesitated.
Mitchell turned sharply.
“Don't answer him.”
Daniel's voice remained calm.
“That was not my question to you.”
Mitchell stepped closer.
“You don't question my partner.”
Barnes said quietly:
“I don't smell anything.”
The sentence changed the air.
Mitchell turned.
“What?”
Barnes swallowed.
“I said I don't smell it.”
Mitchell stared at him.
Daniel watched.
This was the moment.
Not the stop.
Not the insult.
The system.
One officer said something unsupported.
The second officer had a choice.
Barnes had spoken.
Good.
Mitchell's face hardened.
“You want to tell me how to do my job?”
“No.”
“Then back me up.”
Barnes looked at Daniel.
Then the Tahoe.
“Maybe we just issue the lane warning.”
Mitchell laughed without humor.
“Oh, now you're supervising?”
“No.”
“Then stand over there.”
Barnes went silent.
Mitchell turned toward Daniel.
“I have probable cause.”
“No, you have an assertion your partner just contradicted.”
Mitchell stepped closer.
“You really enjoy hearing yourself talk.”
Daniel said:
“I enjoy accuracy.”
Mitchell shoved him lightly back toward the Tahoe.
Not enough to injure.
Enough to establish power.
Daniel's shoulder met the vehicle.
He felt the metal through his polo.
Mitchell pointed.
“Stay.”
Then he began searching.
Center console first.
Receipts.
Charging cables.
Reading glasses.
Mints.
Registration folder.
Nothing.
Glove compartment.
Insurance documents.
Vehicle manual.
Flashlight.
Nothing.
Mitchell moved to the rear.
Opened storage compartments.
Barnes stood near the passenger side.
Daniel watched him.
Barnes avoided eye contact.
Mitchell opened the rear hatch.
The olive-drab bag became visible.
“What's this?”
“Military go-bag.”
Mitchell looked back.
“Sure.”
He unzipped it.