"Someone who owns the bike?"
Maya looked at him. "I own the motorcycle."
Mercer gave a short laugh. "We will see about that."
Maya did not argue. She looked at the Harley again and carefully studied the damage around the engine case. Her attention then moved to the broken headlight and finally to the fuel tank.
Noah watched her. There was something unusual about the way she looked at the motorcycle. She was upset, but she was not focused only on the damage. She seemed to be keeping track of what had happened and in what order.
Mercer returned the radio to his belt. "The tow truck will be here soon."
Maya looked toward the road. "How long ago did you request it?"
Mercer frowned. "Why does that matter?"
"I asked a question."
"You are not in a position to question me."
Maya gave a small nod and stopped speaking. A few seconds later, she looked through the windshield at the clock again. No one noticed this time.
"What are you checking?" he asked.
Maya turned toward him. "The time."
Mercer stepped between them. "Enough."
Maya did not object. She simply stood beside the damaged Harley with her wrists cuffed in front of her and waited. Mercer believed he had control of the stop, the arrest, and the motorcycle. Maya did not challenge him. She only kept track of the time.
A white tow truck turned into the roadside stop several minutes later and pulled onto the gravel behind the patrol cruiser. The driver, a heavy-set man in his 50s wearing a faded work shirt, stepped out and looked at the Harley before speaking to Mercer.
"This the one?"
Mercer nodded. "Take it to county storage."
The driver walked around the motorcycle and stopped near the damaged engine case. "What happened here?"
"Pre-existing damage," Mercer said.
Noah looked at him but remained silent.
Maya checked the time again. The tow truck had arrived too quickly for a normal request made only minutes earlier. She turned toward Mercer.
"You called that truck before Deputy Alvarez finished checking the identification, didn't you?"
Mercer faced her. "You need to stop asking questions."
"I'm asking because the timing matters."
"It matters to you. It doesn't matter to me."
Noah looked at the tow driver. "When did dispatch send you?"
The driver hesitated. "I got the call a while ago."
"How long?"
Mercer interrupted. "He doesn't need to answer you."
Noah frowned. "I'm part of this stop."
"Then act like it."
The tow driver stepped away from them and began lowering the loading equipment.