"I said cuff her!" Carter roared.
Todd Walsh, the loss prevention guard, jogged up, out of breath and grinning. "Got her, officers. Good job. She didn't even try to run. Thought she was slick."
The cold steel of the handcuffs clamped down on Valerie's left wrist, then her right. They were ratcheted entirely too tight, pinching the nerves. Valerie stood pressed against the SUV, her cheek resting against the warm glass of the rear window. A small crowd of shoppers had begun to gather on the sidewalk, holding up cell phones, their camera lenses reflecting the afternoon sun.
"You have the right to remain silent," Carter recited, his breath hot against the back of Valerie's neck as he patted her down, aggressively yanking the red Cartier box from her hoodie pocket. He held it up like a trophy to Todd. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
"You skipped a line, Officer Carter," Valerie said, turning her head slightly so she could look at him out of the corner of her eye.
Carter froze. "What did you say?"
"You skipped a line in your Miranda warning," Valerie said, her voice echoing clearly in the quiet parking garage, carrying over the ambient noise of traffic. "You forgot to advise me that if I cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for me. It's a common mistake for rookies, though looking at your service stripes, you aren't a rookie, are you? You're just incompetent."
Carter's jaw clenched so tight the muscles pulsed. He spun her around by her shoulders, gripping her biceps through the cotton of her hoodie. "You think you're funny? You think because you use some big words, you can talk your way out of felony theft?"
"I think," Valerie said, her dark eyes drilling directly into Carter's soul, stripping away every ounce of his unearned bravado, "that when the dust settles on this afternoon, I am going to have your badge on my desk."
Carter sneered, completely missing the literal truth of her statement. "Yeah, okay, lady. Let's get you in the cruiser."
He grabbed her by the elbow and began marching her toward the flashing lights of the squad car parked at the curb. Miller followed close behind, holding the red Cartier box, looking profoundly uncomfortable. Something about the woman's demeanor—the lack of panic, the chilling, absolute certainty in her voice—was making the young officer's stomach churn.