She felt anger rising beneath her composure.
But she also felt something more important.
A certainty that this officer had behaved this way before.
Not necessarily by tearing documents or kicking cars.
But by converting ordinary questions into alleged defiance.
By treating calm disagreement as an insult.
By assuming that a person without obvious influence could be frightened into silence.
She thought of Leonard Price.
The lost car.
The disputed fees.
The complaints that went nowhere.
Then she looked at the trooper's face.
"Your name is Derek Malloy, correct?"
He stiffened.
"How do you know my name?"
"It's on your uniform."
"That's Trooper Malloy to you."
Naomi nodded.
"Trooper Malloy, I want your badge number and the reason for this stop documented."
He stared at her.
Then laughed.
"You think I'm scared of a complaint?"
Naomi said nothing.
His grin widened.
"Lady, I've had people complain about me for years."
He leaned closer.
"You know what happens?"
She looked at him.
"What?"
Malloy smiled.
"Nothing."
For a moment, Naomi could hear only the wind.
Then she answered.
"Then perhaps someone should find out why."
Malloy's smile remained in place for several seconds.
He seemed pleased with his own answer.
Naomi wondered how many people had stood on the shoulder of this road, listening to the same confidence.
How many had gone home and decided complaining wasn't worth the trouble.
How many had paid a citation they could not afford to fight.
How many had lost a day of work, missed a medical appointment, or spent hours trying to retrieve a vehicle that should never have been towed.
She looked at the trooper.
"Then I'd like a supervisor."
Malloy laughed again.
"Of course you would."
"I'm requesting one."
"And I'm telling you I'm the officer conducting this stop."
"I understand that."
He stepped closer.
"You're not in the Navy right now, Commander. You don't get to order me around."
Naomi kept her hands visible.
"I haven't given you an order."
"You're acting like you have."
"I requested a supervisor."
Malloy stared at her.
Then he reached for his radio.
"Dispatch, Unit Twenty-Seven."
A woman's voice answered through the speaker.
"Go ahead, Twenty-Seven."
"Traffic stop on Lake Roscoe Road. Possible fraudulent operator's license. Requesting verification and a tow."
Naomi turned toward him.