Naomi watched both officers.
She had been in enough high-stress situations to recognize the danger of a confrontation between armed colleagues.
She remained still.
Then the sound of an approaching engine interrupted them.
A dark state police SUV pulled onto the shoulder.
It stopped behind Hannah's vehicle.
A tall Black American man in his early fifties stepped out.
He wore a tan command uniform and dark trousers.
His hair was close-cropped.
His expression was stern.
Captain Daniel Whitaker.
He had supervised highway patrol operations in the region for six years.
And he had known Derek Malloy for almost a decade.
Whitaker approached slowly.
"What's the situation?"
Malloy began speaking immediately.
"Captain, I've got a driver with questionable documents who refused instructions, and Price here is second-guessing the stop."
Whitaker looked toward Hannah.
She kept her expression neutral.
"Dispatch confirmed the driver has a valid temporary license. The driver alleges the original document was destroyed and her vehicle damaged during the stop."
Malloy scoffed.
"She's making accusations."
Whitaker looked toward the sedan.
The dent was clearly visible.
The torn paper lay on the front seat.
Naomi stood nearby, her long black satin skirt moving gently in the breeze.
Whitaker approached her.
"Ma'am, I'm Captain Daniel Whitaker. Are you injured?"
Naomi nodded.
"My shoulder is sore where I was shoved against the vehicle."
"Do you need emergency medical assistance?"
"I'd like the opportunity to be examined, but I'm not experiencing a medical emergency."
Whitaker nodded.
"Understood."
He looked at the door.
"Did you witness the damage being caused?"
"Trooper Malloy struck the roof and door with his hands, then kicked the lower door panel."
Whitaker studied the dent.
Then he turned toward Malloy.
"Is that accurate?"
Malloy looked toward the lake.
"She was refusing commands."
Whitaker's expression hardened.
"That wasn't my question."
Malloy remained silent.
Whitaker repeated it.
"Did you kick this vehicle?"
Malloy shrugged.
"I may have made contact with the door."
"With your boot?"
Malloy's mouth tightened.
"Yes."
Whitaker looked toward the torn paper.
"And the license?"
Malloy sighed.
"It looked fraudulent."
"Did you verify it before destroying it?"
"No."
"Did you destroy it?"