He stared at me.
Then he laughed.
A short, ugly sound.
"You think this is about your fancy car?"
I felt my stomach tighten.
"What is it about?"
He glanced toward Miles.
Then back at me.
"You're carrying something you shouldn't be."
The words confirmed what I had begun to suspect.
I kept my expression neutral.
"What do you believe I'm carrying?"
Garrett opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
He looked toward the patrol SUV, where Miles's radio had begun crackling again.
"Unit Twelve, state patrol is approximately twelve minutes out. Ambulance dispatched. Confirm whether any weapons are drawn."
Miles answered immediately.
"No weapons drawn at this time. One deputy has repeatedly reached toward his holster while confronting a civilian witness."
Garrett stared at him.
"You son of a—"
Miles cut him off.
"Don't."
For the first time, the younger deputy sounded genuinely angry.
Not loud.
Not reckless.
Just finished.
"Don't make me report that you drew your weapon too."
Garrett looked from Miles to Ruth, then toward the highway.
I saw him calculating.
He couldn't erase the broken glass.
He couldn't make the damage disappear.
He couldn't force Ruth to forget what she'd recorded.
And he couldn't trust Miles to repeat a story that protected him.
That was when his posture changed.
He lowered the baton.
Then slowly secured his handgun.
"Fine," he muttered.
Miles didn't relax.
"Step away from her."
Garrett glared at him.
"I'm still the senior officer here."
"Then act like it."
The older deputy stared for several seconds.
Finally, he walked toward the patrol SUV.
I watched him move.
He opened the driver's door, reached inside, and appeared to retrieve his phone.
Miles immediately followed.
"What are you doing?"
Garrett turned away.
"Calling the sheriff."
"Use the official channel."
"This is none of your business."
Miles stepped closer.
"It became my business when you put your hands on me."
Garrett said nothing.
He looked down at his phone.
Then typed something quickly.
I couldn't see the screen.
But I saw him glance toward my trunk.
Again.
That detail stayed with me.
At the time, I didn't know why.
Later, investigators would show me the message he sent at 2:46 p.m.
It contained only six words.
Wrong woman. Federal. Need instructions immediately.
The person who received it was not another deputy.
It was a senior official inside the county sheriff's department.
And the phone that received it had been used to communicate with one of the men connected to my confidential investigation.
While Garrett typed, Miles approached me.
He crouched several feet away, leaving his hands visible.
"Ms. Cole?"
I looked at him.
"Special Agent Cole."
He nodded.
"Special Agent Cole, are you injured?"
"My wrists are numb. My shoulder hurts. I've been on this pavement for several minutes."