Vincent noticed him at almost the same moment. Gloria saw her husband's jaw tighten, but he said nothing. She assumed the officer would return to his car. Then Hughes pushed away from the fender and walked toward her with the unhurried steps of a man who expected everybody else to wait.
"Everybody stay buckled a minute," Gloria said. "Let's see what he wants."
Hughes reached her door before she could open it. He rapped three times on the glass, each knock harder than the last. Gloria lowered the window and placed both hands on the steering wheel where he could see them. Through the gap behind her seat, Vincent lifted his phone. His face had become still.
"Afternoon, ma'am," Hughes said. "License and registration."
"Good afternoon, Officer. Can I ask why?"
"You can ask a lot of things. Doesn't mean you get an answer right away."
Gloria took a careful breath. "My wallet is in my purse, beside the console. May I reach for it?"
"Slowly."
She found her license, then opened the glove compartment for the registration and insurance card. Her documents were current. The minivan was registered in her name, paid for with money she had earned and spent countless weekends budgeting. It was a clean, well-maintained family vehicle with a dent near the rear wheel from the time Zoe had backed a bicycle into it. Hughes inspected the license, holding it at an angle while he compared the photograph to Gloria's face.
"This really your vehicle?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Registered to you?"
"Yes, sir. It's on the document."
He looked up. "Don't get clever. Where are you headed?"