“I know your name.”
“That wasn’t your question.”
Ryan lowered the bag slightly.
“Who are you?”
Mara looked toward his body camera.
“Before I answer that, I want you to confirm your camera is recording.”
His face tightened.
“It is.”
“The microphone too?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
A voice came from behind him.
“Keller.”
Ryan turned.
The second officer had stepped from his patrol car.
He was older.
Late forties.
Thick through the shoulders, gray beginning at his temples, a dark mustache trimmed carefully above his lip.
Mara recognized him before she could read the name on his chest.
Sergeant Mason Creel.
She had seen his photograph in personnel files that afternoon.
Creel walked toward them.
“What’ve we got?”
Ryan did not answer immediately.
That hesitation was the first thing Creel noticed.
His gaze moved from Ryan to the plastic bag.
Then to Mara.
For the briefest instant, something changed in his eyes.
Recognition.
Not of her face.
Of the bag.
Mara saw it.
Ryan saw it too.
Creel recovered quickly.
“Controlled substance?”
“Possible narcotics,” Ryan said.
“Where?”
“Rear seat.”
Creel nodded.
“Cuff her.”
Mara spoke before Ryan could move.
“Sergeant Creel.”
The older officer looked at her.
“Read the number.”
Creel’s eyes hardened.
“What?”
“The number Officer Keller just read.”
Creel did not look at the bag.
That was more revealing than if he had.
Ryan looked between them.
“Sergeant?”
Creel’s voice became sharp.
“Cuff her.”
Mara held her hands forward voluntarily.
“Officer Keller, if I were you, I would make sure that bag never leaves the view of your body camera.”
Ryan looked at her.
Creel stepped closer.
“Enough.”
“No.”
Mara’s voice remained calm.
“If I were him, I’d also want every second of the next ten minutes preserved.”
Creel reached for her arm.
Ryan moved first.
Not aggressively.
Just enough to put himself between them.
“I’ve got her, Sarge.”
Creel stopped.
The two officers looked at one another.
Something passed between them.
Mara could not yet name it.
Ryan pulled out his handcuffs.
“Turn around, ma’am.”
She did.
The metal closed around her wrists.
Not painfully.
Ryan checked the spacing with his finger before locking them.
Professional.
Careful.
That mattered to Mara.