"Purchased by you?"
A pause, not nervous, simply measured. "It is."
Officer Priya Holden, twenty-eight years old, four years on the force, stood at the rear quarter panel of the Ghost and ran the plates a second time on her handheld. The first time, the system had returned clean. The second time returned identical information: Nadia Voss, current registration, zero flags, VIN verified.
She looked at the readout. She looked at Captain Calhoun. She said nothing. Not yet. She had learned in four years that there was a particular silence required of junior officers when a captain was in the middle of forming an opinion.
Calhoun handed the documents to Sergeant Brian Okafor, who had exited the patrol car and now stood at the passenger window—6'3", built like a linebacker. His presence at that window was clearly calculated.
Okafor looked down at Renata. Renata looked straight ahead.
"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to step out of the vehicle."
Renata turned her head slowly. "On what basis?"
Okafor's jaw tightened. "On the basis that I asked you to."
"That's not a legal basis."
The air between them shifted. Okafor was not accustomed to being answered. He was accustomed to compliance—a compliance that his size and tone had always efficiently produced. He put one hand on the door handle. "I'm not going to ask again."
Renata kept her hands visible on her lap. Her voice was entirely even. "You have not provided a valid legal reason for this stop, for requesting that I exit the vehicle, or for detaining us. If you have one, I'm listening."
Okafor yanked the door open. Renata didn't move. She looked at him the way a person looks at something they have already documented and filed away for later.