Her voice sliced through the sound of the falling rain, sharp and cold as a scalpel.
Miller frowned. He expected tears. He expected screaming. He expected a tirade about racism and lawsuits. He didn't expect this icy, quiet authority.
"I'm finished when I say I'm finished. Sign the citations."
"I will not be signing anything," Valerie said.
She walked past him, stepping carefully around the mud to reach the hood of her car, where Miller had unceremoniously dumped the contents of her purse.
"Hey, get back here!" Miller yelled, reaching out to grab her shoulder.
Before his hand could make contact, Valerie pivoted seamlessly, swatting his hand away with a practiced, forceful parry that caught him completely off guard.
"Do not touch me," she commanded, the sheer force of her voice freezing him in place. "You have conducted an illegal search, destroyed private property without probable cause, falsified a traffic violation, and attempted to intimidate a citizen. You have exactly one chance to step back."
Miller recovered from his shock, his face turning a dangerous shade of crimson. "That's it. You're under arrest for assaulting an officer!"
He reached for his handcuffs.
Valerie ignored him. She picked up her smartphone from the hood, unlocked it, and dialed a number from her favorites list. She pressed it to her ear.
"Put the phone down and put your hands behind your back!" Miller barked, stepping forward.
Valerie held up a single manicured finger—a universal gesture for wait. Astonishingly, the sheer audacity of the gesture made Miller pause.