Hughes peered toward the tinted glass. He could make out a man's shoulders and gym shirt, but not much else. "Tell him to get out, too."
Gloria felt her pulse accelerate. "For what reason?"
"Because I told you to."
Inside the minivan, Vincent quietly tapped the number for the department's nonemergency supervisory line into an unsent message, then returned to recording. He was about to intervene when Hughes stepped back toward Gloria, and Vincent stopped long enough to hear the next demand. His experience told him that interruptions at the wrong moment could change what an officer later claimed had happened. His conscience told him that the woman outside was his wife and that she should not have to be a case study.
"Pop the trunk," Hughes said.
"Why?"
"I smell marijuana."
Gloria almost laughed at the naked invention. She had cleaned the minivan that morning. The strongest odors inside it were oranges, soccer socks, and the faint, persistent smell of French fries left from a drive-through meal. "There isn't any marijuana in my vehicle."
"Then you won't mind showing me."
"I do mind," Gloria replied. "I don't consent to a search."
Hughes took one step closer. "I don't need your permission."
The rear passenger window came down a few inches. Zoe's voice trembled. "Mommy, can we go?"
"Window up, sweetheart," Gloria said. "Stay with Marcus and Lily."
Hughes looked toward the opening. "That's your daughter?"