Maya stared at him.
“What exactly are you accusing me of?”
“I didn’t accuse you.”
“You just told me people like me have access to drugs.”
“I said medical professionals.”
“I heard you.”
Tyler lowered the flashlight.
“Are you refusing further testing?”
“No.”
“I’m asking what you think you’re investigating.”
“Possible impairment.”
“Based on me sleeping in a parked car?”
“Based on your condition.”
Maya looked toward the grocery store.
A cashier inside was watching through the window.
Humiliation arrived.
She had spent the night treating strangers beneath bright hospital lights.
Now she stood under different lights while a police officer studied her body as evidence against her.
Tyler asked her to perform several roadside coordination tasks.
Maya tried.
She lost her balance once during the turn.
Missed the heel-to-toe position twice.
Paused too long while processing one instruction.
Tyler’s suspicion hardened.
Maya’s frustration did too.
“I told you I am exhausted.”
“I understand what you’re saying.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You understand the words.”
“You don’t believe them.”
Tyler pulled out a preliminary breath-testing device.
“Blow until I tell you to stop.”
Maya looked at it.
“Fine.”
She complied.
The device processed.
0.000.
Tyler looked at the screen.
Maya did too.
“Are we done?”
“No.”
She laughed once.
Disbelief.
“What?”
“No alcohol does not rule out other impairment.”
“Other impairment from what?”
“Medication.”
“I told you—”
“I heard you.”
“Then why ask if every answer means nothing?”
Tyler’s jaw tightened.
“Keep your voice down.”
Maya stared.
“My voice is down.”
“Ma’am.”
“There is nobody here except you.”
“Ma’am.”
She closed her eyes.
That was a mistake.
Tyler immediately said:
“Keep your eyes open.”
Maya opened them.
“I am trying.”
“I’m going to ask you one more time.”
“Have you taken anything tonight that could affect your ability to operate a vehicle?”
Maya looked directly at him.
“Sleep deprivation.”
Tyler exhaled.
“I mean drugs.”
“No.”
“Prescription sedatives?”
“No.”
“Pain medication beyond ibuprofen?”
“No.”
“Cannabis?”
“No.”
“Anything else?”
“Coffee.”
Tyler looked toward her car.
Then back.
“You were not safe to drive.”
“No.”
Maya nodded.
“That is why I stopped.”
Tyler stared.
Something in his mind should have shifted.
Instead he heard confirmation.
Not safe to drive.
Impaired.
Tyler had spent the previous six months volunteering for traffic-enforcement shifts whenever possible. He wanted advanced impaired-driving training. He had made seven arrests that year involving drivers who blew zero alcohol but later tested positive for drugs.