The driver looked toward the stopped SUV.
Nothing unusual.
Yet.
Danielle glanced at the clock.
1:51.
Four minutes.
She considered calling someone.
No.
Not yet.
This was still a traffic stop.
She did not want rank entering the encounter simply because she disliked tone.
That would be exactly the kind of misuse of status she had spent her career criticizing.
She waited.
Miller returned first.
He did not bring a citation book.
Interesting.
He leaned toward the window.
“Step out of the vehicle.”
Danielle looked at him.
“Why?”
“For my safety.”
She looked toward her hands.
Then at him.
“What specific safety concern?”
Miller laughed once.
Not kindly.
“You don't get to interrogate me.”
“I asked why you are ordering me out.”
“Because I told you to.”
Hayes returned.
He looked uncomfortable.
Danielle noticed.
She said, “Am I under arrest?”
“No.”
“Am I being detained?”
“Yes.”
“For the alleged lane violation?”
Miller’s voice sharpened.
“Get out.”
Danielle's pulse remained steady.
Mostly.
This was where theory became body.
She had taught young supervisors that knowing policy did not stop adrenaline from arriving when an armed stranger exercised authority over you.
Even when that stranger wore the same profession you did.
Danielle opened the door slowly.
Miller stepped back.
She exited.
The height difference became visible.
Miller was perhaps six feet one.
Danielle, in heels, nearly five-ten.
She stood beside the SUV.
Her burgundy trousers caught the sunlight.
Miller's eyes moved over her outfit.
Not sexual.
Judgmental.
Danielle noticed.
“What now?”
“Turn around.”
“Why?”
“Pat-down.”
Danielle's face changed.
“For what weapon-related suspicion?”
Miller's jaw tightened.
“Your behavior.”
“My behavior?”
“You keep reaching around.”
“I retrieved documents after receiving permission.”
“You’re nervous.”
Danielle almost laughed.
“I am not.”
“That’s what nervous people say.”
Hayes looked away.
Danielle turned toward him.
“Officer Hayes.”
He looked back.
“Do you believe there is reasonable suspicion that I am armed and dangerous?”
Miller stepped between them.
“Don't question my partner.”
Danielle looked at him.
“Your partner can speak.”
Miller moved closer.
“Hands on the car.”
Danielle did not move.
Miller's voice rose.
“Hands on the vehicle.”
Cars passed.
Slower now.
Danielle looked around.
A gray SUV had stopped farther up the shoulder, hazard lights on.
A woman in the passenger seat appeared to be watching.
Possibly recording.
Good.
Danielle put both palms on the roofline of her vehicle.
“Documenting compliance.”
Miller muttered something.
“What was that?”
Danielle asked.
“I said you think you're real smart.”
She turned her head slightly.
“I didn't hear the first time.”
“Face forward.”
Danielle did.
Miller patted down the outer sides of her trousers.
Waist.
Pockets.