"Could be fake."
"The state system doesn't indicate that."
Garrett stepped closer to him.
"You saying I'm wrong?"
Miles held his ground.
"I'm saying we don't have evidence the car is stolen."
Garrett's face darkened.
He turned toward me.
"Open the trunk."
I looked up.
"My hands are cuffed behind my back."
He glanced at the cuffs as though he'd forgotten them.
"Then tell me how."
I swallowed.
"There is an interior release, but I need you to understand something before you access the compartment."
His expression changed.
"What?"
"I am a senior Army CID special agent. My official credentials are in my purse, and an authorized communications unit is secured in the vehicle. I am not consenting to an unlawful search, but I am willing to provide identification through an appropriate procedure."
Garrett stared.
For a moment, the only sound was traffic passing on the highway.
Then he laughed.
"Army CID?"
"Yes."
"You're military police now?"
"Army Criminal Investigation Division. Federal criminal investigations."
He looked toward Miles.
"Listen to this."
Miles didn't laugh.
Instead, he looked toward the car with sudden concern.
"Garrett, we should verify that."
Garrett snapped around.
"You believe her?"
"I'm saying it can be checked."
"She's lying."
I forced myself to remain calm.
"Call the installation duty office. They can confirm my credentials through official channels."
Garrett's face reddened.
"YOU THINK I'M STUPID?"
I didn't answer.
He looked toward the windshield.
Then toward his patrol SUV.
And something in his expression changed.
It was no longer simple anger.
It was the satisfaction of a man deciding that destruction would make him feel powerful.
He retrieved a steel baton.
Miles stepped forward immediately.
"Garrett, what are you doing?"
Garrett pointed toward my vehicle.
"Looking for stolen property."
I stared.
"Breaking the windshield won't help you access my identification."
He turned toward me.
"SHUT UP!"
Then he raised the baton.
The first blow struck the driver's-side glass.
The sound was sharp enough to make me flinch.
Miles shouted.
"Garrett!"
Garrett hit the window again.
Cracks spread across its surface.
He stepped back, raised the baton above his shoulder, and struck the windshield.
The impact echoed across the highway.
I watched the glass fracture.
For a moment, the world seemed to slow.
The beautiful car my mother would have loved.
The car I'd worked for.
The car I'd purchased because I wanted something that reminded me I could enjoy my success without asking permission.
A man with a badge was destroying it because he believed I had no right to own it.
I looked toward Miles.
He was reaching for his radio.
Then Garrett kicked the car door.
"Tell me where you stole it!"
I clenched my teeth.
"I didn't steal anything."