She opened the door slowly. Hughes moved back just enough to let her stand, then placed himself between her and the entrance to the store. Heat rose from the asphalt in visible waves. The afternoon had become unusually warm for May, and the sun caught the sweat at her temples almost immediately. She wore a plain blue shirt, jeans, and the silver bracelet Vincent had given her on their tenth anniversary. She was a mother taking children to soccer practice, but the officer examined her as though her clothes and skin were evidence.
"Hands where I can see them."
She lifted her hands to waist height, palms open. "They're right here."
"You nervous?"
"I'm uncomfortable. I don't understand why this is happening."
"You're sweating."
"It's hot outside."
"Uh-huh."
Across the lot, Jennifer Wilson saw Gloria standing with her hands raised. Jennifer had pulled in to buy ice on her way to the same practice, and she recognized the blue minivan immediately. Her first assumption was that Gloria needed help with a flat tire. Then she noticed the officer's stance, the way he crowded Gloria without leaving her a path toward the store, and the rigid stillness of Gloria's shoulders. Jennifer remembered her own disputed traffic ticket and reached for her phone.
Two spaces away, Tyrone Brown had stopped for coffee after dropping equipment at the park. His son Marcus was supposed to arrive with Gloria, and Tyrone had been surprised to see the familiar minivan at the station. He noticed the patrol cruiser, then his son's anxious face through the window. He set his coffee on the dashboard and began recording from beside his pickup.
"Where were you before this?" Hughes asked.
"At home. I collected the children and picked up my husband. We came here for snacks."
"Husband?"
"Yes. He's in the middle row."