"Just making conversation," Lawson said.
His tone made conversation sound like an accusation. Faith watched him return to the cruiser with her documents and kept both hands on the wheel, even though he had moved beyond her hearing. She knew from experience that encounters could become dangerous when a person with authority felt challenged, and she did not intend to give him even the appearance of a sudden movement. What she did not know was that no amount of visible compliance would interrupt the story he had already chosen to believe.
In the patrol car, Brennan ran Faith's license and vehicle information through the department system. The results were unremarkable: valid identification, current registration, insurance recorded, no warrants, no stolen vehicle notice, no warning associated with the car. He checked the spelling carefully, thinking perhaps he had made an entry error, then looked toward his sergeant. Lawson was staring through the windshield at the Mercedes as though the computer had offered a personal insult.
"It's clean," Brennan said. "Everything matches."
"Run it again."
"Sergeant, the plate and license both match. There's no reason to keep her here that I can see."
Lawson turned his head slowly. "That you can see," he repeated. "You have six months on this job and already think you know what I can see. Run it again."
Brennan did as he was told, obtaining exactly the same result. The silence afterward was heavier than it should have been for an ordinary stop. He considered asking whether the initial stop had been based on a recorded speed reading, but Lawson had not entered one and Brennan knew the question would sound like an accusation. The older officer took the documents and climbed out before his partner found the courage to speak again.
The second approach was different from the first. Lawson walked with his shoulders forward and his jaw set, as if he had gone back to the patrol car to retrieve confirmation of his suspicion and had returned offended by its absence. He rested one hand on the open window frame and lowered his face closer to Faith's. The questions that followed had less to do with traffic than with whether he could make her defend her right to be sitting where she sat.
"You say you're going to Elton to visit family," he began. "Who lives there?"
"My mother. She's expecting me today."
"What kind of work do you do, Miss Anderson?"
"I work for the federal government," Faith answered. It was accurate, and at that moment she did not think a roadside deputy needed a summary of her command assignments.
Lawson smiled without warmth. "Federal government. Convenient answer. You got somebody who can verify that?"
"My identification and registration have already been verified. Sergeant, may I ask why I was stopped?"
"You don't need to worry about that yet. Step out of the vehicle."