Then at Marcus.
“Step out of the vehicle.”
No greeting.
No request for license.
No explanation.
Marcus kept his hands still.
“Good evening, Sergeant. May I ask why I was stopped?”
“Step out.”
“I’m willing to comply. I would like the reason for the detention first.”
Mercer leaned toward the window.
“I’m not asking again.”
Danner glanced toward his sergeant.
Marcus noticed that too.
“Sergeant Mercer,” Marcus said, “what specific violation or suspicion are you investigating?”
Mercer’s jaw tightened.
“Your vehicle matches one connected to narcotics activity in this area.”
Marcus’s instincts sharpened immediately.
“What description?”
“Step out.”
“Can you verify the plate before we go any further?”
“No mistake.”
“This is a government fleet vehicle.”
Mercer reached for the door handle.
Marcus’s voice became firmer.
“If you check the registration, that will be clear.”
Mercer yanked the door open.
“I said get out.”
Marcus could have identified himself immediately.
He considered it.
But something about Mercer’s explanation did not fit.
Federal fleet registration was traceable.
The plate was clean.
There had been no traffic violation.
And “matches a vehicle” without color, make, plate, or specific description was not an explanation Marcus trusted.
He stepped out slowly.
Both hands visible.
“I am complying.”
The words were deliberate.
He knew body cameras might be recording.
Mercer grabbed his right arm.
Hard.
Spun him toward the SUV.