"Riverside Park. The children have soccer practice at three. We stopped for snacks."
Hughes leaned far enough forward to inspect the rear seats. Zoe stared at him. Marcus sat rigidly with his shin guard in his lap, and Lily's fingers tightened around her phone. Vincent remained partly hidden behind the driver's seat, watching with an expression Gloria knew well from difficult meetings: not blankness, but active attention.
"Soccer practice," Hughes repeated. "From here."
"The park is about ten minutes away."
He handed back nothing. "You folks live around here?"
"We're residents of Richmond."
"That's not what I asked."
For the first time, Gloria felt the temperature of the afternoon shift. It was still hot, and the air still smelled of gasoline, but she had the unmistakable sensation that the man standing outside her door had stopped looking for an explanation and started looking for a mistake. She had given him the facts. He seemed irritated that the facts did not help him.
"Sir," she said, "if there's a problem with my vehicle, I'd like to understand it."
Hughes tapped the edge of her license against his palm. "We'll get to that."
He walked away without explaining where he was going. Gloria could see him circle the front of the minivan, inspecting the windshield and headlights. He crouched behind it, touched the license plate, then pressed on the rear hatch as if the lock itself might confess something. At the driver's door again, he raised her documents between two fingers.
"Registration sticker expires next month."
"It's valid through June," Gloria said.
"I know how to read a sticker, ma'am. I'm telling you it's about to expire."