"All right. Thank you for letting me know."
Her restraint seemed to annoy him more than an argument would have. He leaned into the window until the children could hear every word. "I see people come through here all the time driving cars they can't explain. You'd be surprised what we turn up when we look inside."
"I can explain my car," Gloria said. "The registration is in your hand."
Hughes's face tightened. "Where'd you steal this thing from?"
For one stunned instant Gloria thought she must have heard him incorrectly. Her minivan was seven years old, clean but far from luxurious. A faded dinosaur sticker clung to the corner of a rear window. Zoe's team schedule was tucked into the visor. Gloria wanted to point out the absurdity of his accusation, but a different calculation took over: he was armed, he controlled her documents, and the children were listening.
"I didn't steal it, Officer. It's mine."
"Don't play dumb with me. You people are always hiding something."
"What do you mean by 'you people'?" she asked before she could stop herself.
Hughes straightened. His expression changed from lazy suspicion to open displeasure. "Step out of the vehicle."
"Have I violated a traffic law?"
"Step out. Now."
Gloria looked toward Vincent. He was watching through the space between the seats, his phone held low. His thumb moved across the screen, and the red recording indicator appeared. There was a time when she might have been reassured simply by his presence. In that moment she felt a flash of anger that he was watching instead of speaking. She understood, intellectually, why he did not want to make this a confrontation between the chief and an officer before the facts were documented. She also understood that she was the person standing nearest the officer's gun.
"Mom?" Zoe whispered.
"It's okay," Gloria said, though she did not yet know if it was. "Stay in the van. Everybody stay buckled."