All black.
All identical.
Emergency lights activated behind the grilles.
Doss froze.
Keller loosened his grip by instinct.
The first SUV braked hard behind the sheriff cruiser.
Doors opened before it fully stopped.
Four federal agents stepped out.
Dark suits.
Ballistic vests beneath jackets.
One woman already holding credentials high.
“Federal agents!”
Doss stepped backward.
Keller stared.
“What the hell?”
A tall Black man emerged from the passenger side of the second SUV.
Special Agent in Charge Marcus Cole.
Richmond Field Office.
He took one look at Maya pinned against the damaged Rolls.
His face changed.
Not surprise.
Pure disbelief.
“Director Williams!”
Keller’s hand fell from her shoulder.
The unfinished cuff remained around her wrist.
Doss looked from Marcus to Maya.
Then back.
“What?”
Marcus moved forward.
“Step away from her!”
Keller obeyed automatically.
Not far enough.
Two agents intercepted him.
One took Doss.
The county deputies looked suddenly very small beside people who knew exactly who they were.
Maya straightened slowly.
The ivory gown was streaked with road dust.
Her coat sleeve had torn near the wrist.
Her father’s windshield was destroyed.
One mirror hung by wires.
Her phone lay in gravel.
Marcus stopped in front of her.
“Ma’am.”
Maya looked down at the cuff.
Marcus saw.
His jaw clenched.
“Get that off.”
One of the federal agents turned toward Keller.
“Key.”
Keller seemed unable to speak.
“Deputy.”
the agent said.
“Key.”
Keller finally removed it from his belt.
The cuff opened.
Maya rubbed her wrist.
No serious injury.
She looked at Marcus.
“How long since the trigger?”
“Three minutes, nineteen seconds.”
“Too slow.”
Marcus stared.
“You were four miles ahead of us because you insisted on driving alone.”
“That sounds like criticism.”
“It is.”
Despite the situation, one of the agents almost smiled.
Maya looked toward Keller.
He had regained enough composure to become defensive.
“This is a misunderstanding.”
Maya said nothing.
Keller continued:
“We had a suspected stolen vehicle.”
Marcus looked at the Rolls.
Then at him.
“On what basis?”
“Registration discrepancy.”
Maya interrupted.
“There was none.”
Keller snapped toward her.
“You don't know what our system showed.”
Maya looked at Marcus.
“Preserve the patrol-car computer.”
Marcus nodded.
“Already being imaged remotely.”
Keller’s face changed.
Doss looked toward his cruiser.
Another federal agent was photographing everything.
The shattered glass.
Broken mirror.
Phone.
Tire-tool marks.