The world had continued while I sat on that highway.
But my own world felt altered.
I had always known that a badge could be abused.
I'd investigated enough cases to know it intellectually.
Now I knew what it felt like to have someone look directly at you, disregard everything you said, and use authority to turn your own body into evidence of his power.
My father helped me into his car.
He waited until I fastened my seat belt.
Then he looked toward me.
"Do you want to go home?"
I considered the question.
For years, home had meant a beautiful apartment, a quiet balcony, and the kind of peace I could purchase after long workdays.
That evening, I wanted something different.
"I want to go to your house."
He smiled.
"Good."
I looked toward him.
"And Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Can we stop talking about the car?"
He nodded immediately.
"Of course."
For the next twenty minutes, we drove in silence.
Then my father's phone rang through the car's hands-free system.
The caller was my aunt.
He answered.
"She's with me."
There was a pause.
Then my aunt's voice filled the car.
"Renata Cole, don't you dare tell me you're too tired for dinner."
I laughed.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
"Good. Because I've got enough food to feed an entire football team."
For the first time since the traffic stop, the muscles in my shoulders relaxed.
But the relief didn't last long.
At 8:14 p.m., Thomas Reed called my father's house.
I stepped into the kitchen to answer.
"Renata?"
"Yes."
"We have something."
I looked toward the doorway.
My father was talking with my aunt in the dining room.
"What?"
Thomas hesitated.
"State investigators obtained Deputy Ansar's preliminary statement."
I felt my heartbeat quicken.
"And?"
"He says the traffic stop was requested after Garrett received a private message."
I gripped the edge of the counter.
"From whom?"
"We're still establishing that."
I swallowed.
"Did the message describe my car?"
Thomas paused.
"Yes."
I closed my eyes.
He continued.
"It described a black Rolls-Royce Phantom traveling west from the hotel district."
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
The hotel district.
Where I had met the accountant.
I opened my eyes.
"Thomas."
"I'm listening."
"Somebody knew where I was."
His voice became grim.
"Yes."
I stared at the kitchen wall.
Then he said something that made every detail of the afternoon suddenly feel more sinister.
"Renata, we believe the stop may have been arranged before you even got into the car."
I didn't sleep that night.