Years of defensive tactics hidden beneath ordinary clothing. Ryan blinked. Fast. Travis noticed it, too. Interesting.
Not normal. Nia immediately softened her posture, pretending the movement had been instinct rather than training. I don't want any trouble. Oh, Travis replied quietly. I think trouble already found you.
Across the street, Marcus finally spoke. Leave her alone. Every officer turned toward him. Ryan pointed. Looks like your boyfriend wants to help.
Marcus shook his head. She didn't do anything. Eric shoved him backward again. You don't get to speak. Marcus hit the park bench for a second time.
Several people gasped. Still, nobody intervened. Nia discreetly activated another feature on her phone. The screen appeared dark, but hidden beneath it, an encrypted emergency application silently began uploading every second of video to secure federal servers. No signal appeared, no notification, exactly as designed.
Travis never noticed. Instead, he nodded toward Dylan. Run her plate. Dylan walked toward the aging gray sedan parked nearby. He circled it once before laughing.
This thing barely runs. Ryan smirked. Figure. Dylan typed the license plate into his patrol computer. Seconds passed.
His smile slowly faded. Huh. What? The registration checks out. So, it belongs to her.
No warrants? Dylan frowned. Nothing. Ryan shrugged. We'll find something.
Kevin Ross shifted uneasily. Sergent. What? We don't actually have probable cause. The words hung in the air.
For a brief second, silence settled over the intersection. Travis slowly turned toward Kevin. What did you say? Kevin swallowed. I just meant Travis stepped closer.
I asked if we had probable cause. Kevin looked down. No, sir. Travis smiled. There you go.