“You stopped me before it was defective.”
“I’m not going to argue roadside mechanics with you.”
“You don’t need to.”
She looked at the flashlight.
“You made the defect.”
His jaw tightened.
“Are you accusing me of damaging your vehicle?”
“I’m describing what I watched you do.”
He stared.
Then gave a short laugh.
“All right.”
He resumed writing.
“Tell the judge.”
The Black woman’s expression changed.
Barely.
The officer did not notice.
He continued:
“That’s what court is for.”
She looked past him toward the marked patrol SUV angled along the curb.
Emergency lights flashed silently against the neighboring houses.
A few curtains had moved.
Someone was probably watching.
The officer tore the citation from the pad.
“License and registration.”
“You already have my license.”
“I need registration.”
“It’s in the car.”
“Get it.”
The woman remained where she was.
“Are you ordering me to reach inside?”
He frowned.
“Yes.”
“Then say that clearly.”
His face tightened.
“Reach into the vehicle and retrieve your registration.”
She nodded once.
“Thank you.”
He seemed confused by the answer.
She opened the rear passenger door.
Not the driver’s door.
The officer stepped closer.
“Why are you going back there?”
“Because the registration folder is in the rear seat pocket.”
He leaned slightly to look past her.
That was when he saw it.
A black robe.
Folded carefully across the cream leather seat.
Heavy fabric.
Wide sleeves.
A judge’s robe.
Beside it sat a leather folio containing several organized case folders, a courthouse security credential clipped partially inside, and a sealed envelope bearing the insignia of the federal judiciary.
The officer stopped writing.
The woman reached into the seat pocket and removed the registration.
She turned.
He was staring past her.
She followed his gaze.
The black robe.
Then she looked back at him.
His expression was different now.
Not fear yet.
Calculation.
“What’s that?”
he asked.
She raised an eyebrow.
“You’re asking what a robe is?”
“Is that yours?”
She held out the registration.
“You asked for this.”
He did not take it.
Instead:
“You work at the courthouse?”
The woman studied him.