“It is unlocked.”
“Open it.”
“There is moving traffic less than six feet away.”
Wade looked toward the interstate.
Then back at Malcolm.
“Open the door.”
Malcolm slowly began pushing it outward.
A tractor-trailer approached in the nearest lane.
The pressure wave rocked the Range Rover.
Malcolm stopped.
“After that truck.”
Wade immediately shoved the door back closed.
His face changed.
“You’re refusing.”
“No.”
“You just refused.”
“I waited three seconds for a truck to pass.”
Evan spoke for the first time.
“Wade, traffic’s heavy. We can move him out passenger side.”
Wade ignored him.
Malcolm looked at Evan.
The younger trooper avoided his eyes.
Wade pulled the door handle again.
“Out.”
Malcolm opened it a few inches.
Another vehicle passed.
Wade shoved the door closed again.
Then stepped back.
“What are you hiding?”
Malcolm almost laughed.
It was such an abrupt question that it sounded rehearsed.
“Nothing.”
“Then why won’t you get out?”
“I am trying to get out without putting either of us in traffic.”
Wade pointed toward the shoulder.
“You’ve got plenty of room.”
“Not with you standing against the door.”
Evan looked down.
Wade’s face flushed.
“Roll the window all the way down.”
“It is already halfway down.”
“All the way.”
Malcolm pressed the switch.
Nothing happened.
The motor clicked.
The glass remained fixed.
Malcolm tried again.
“It appears stuck.”
Wade smiled.
There was satisfaction in it.
Not concern.
Not problem solving.
An opportunity.
“Convenient.”
Malcolm turned toward him.
“You watched me press the switch.”
“Open the door.”
“I will when you step back.”
Wade stepped closer instead.
Malcolm looked at him through the half-open window.
“Officer Mercer.”
Wade froze.
“How do you know my name?”
“Your nameplate.”
Evan looked away again.
Malcolm continued.
“I am willing to exit the vehicle.”
“Then do it.”
“Move two feet away from the door.”
Wade’s hand went to the baton.
Malcolm saw it.
So did Evan.
“Wade.”
The younger trooper’s voice was low.
Wade pulled the baton free.
“Last chance.”
Malcolm’s hands remained on the wheel.
“You are about to damage private property for no reason.”
“You’re barricaded in a vehicle.”
“The door is unlocked.”
“Open it.”
“Step back.”
The first strike came less than a second later.
Now, with the window destroyed, Wade reached through the frame.
Tiny glass cubes still clung to the rubber edge.
Malcolm stayed still.
“Unlock the door.”
“It is unlocked.”
Wade pulled the interior handle.
The door opened.
He jerked it outward.
Malcolm unfastened his seat belt.
Then Wade grabbed his sleeve.
“Get out.”
Malcolm raised one hand.
“Do not pull me.”
“Move.”
“I’m moving.”
Wade pulled harder.
Malcolm stepped down onto the shoulder.
Glass fell from his trousers.
A small cut beneath his right cheekbone had started bleeding.
Evan stared at the broken window.
Then at Wade.
“What was that?”
Wade ignored him.
“Hands on the roof.”
Malcolm complied.
The interstate roared beside them.
Wade frisked him quickly.
Wallet.
Pen.
Keys.
Nothing threatening.
Then Wade opened the Range Rover’s rear door.
Malcolm turned his head.
“I do not consent to a search.”
Wade looked back.
“This is a protective sweep.”
“For what?”
“Officer safety.”
“Of an empty back seat?”
“Turn around.”
Malcolm faced the roof again.
Evan approached his partner.
“His license is clean.”
“I know.”
“Registration’s clean.”
“I know.”
“So what are we doing?”
Wade pointed toward Malcolm.
“He refused lawful commands.”
“No, he didn’t.”
Silence.
Malcolm lifted his eyes.
Wade stared at Evan.
“What did you say?”
Evan hesitated.
Then repeated it.
“He didn’t refuse.”
Wade stepped toward him.
“You were standing ten feet away.”
“I heard everything.”
“He barricaded himself.”
“The door was unlocked.”
Wade’s jaw clenched.
Malcolm recognized the moment.
The stop could still recover.
One person had introduced reality.
All Wade needed to do was accept it.
Instead, he turned back toward Malcolm.
“Where’s your phone?”
Malcolm said nothing.
“Your phone.”
“Center console.”
Wade leaned into the vehicle through the open door.
He found it.
Then he found the leather credential case beside it.
Malcolm saw his hand close around the case.
Something inside him became very still.
“Trooper.”
Wade looked over his shoulder.
“Put that down.”
That tone finally got his attention.
For the first time, Malcolm did not sound like a motorist asking questions.
He sounded like someone issuing a warning.
Wade smiled.
“What’s this?”
“Identification.”
“I already have your license.”
“Different identification.”
Wade opened the case.
The expression on his face disappeared.
No anger.
No confidence.
Nothing.
His eyes moved first to the gold federal seal.
Then the photograph.
Then the printed title.
MALCOLM A. REED
DIRECTOR
FEDERAL OFFICE OF TRANSPORTATION AND ENFORCEMENT INTEGRITY