Marcus stared at him.
“The wrong time?”
Mercer ignored the question.
He turned toward Danner.
“Search the vehicle.”
Danner hesitated.
“Sarge, we haven’t—”
“We have probable cause from the intelligence.”
Marcus spoke immediately.
“I do not consent to a search.”
Mercer looked back.
“Don’t need it.”
“You just used reasonable suspicion to justify the stop. Now you’re calling that probable cause for a full vehicle search. Those are not interchangeable.”
Mercer’s eyes narrowed.
“You a lawyer?”
“No.”
“Then shut up.”
Marcus raised his voice slightly, enough for the camera.
“For the record, I explicitly do not consent to any search of this vehicle or any closed container within it.”
Mercer smiled.
“For the record, I don’t care.”
He threw open the driver’s door.
Danner remained still.
Mercer turned.
“Move.”
The younger officer reluctantly approached.
Marcus watched every motion.
Years of investigative work had taught him to control anger by turning it into observation.
Time.
Sequence.
People.
Words.
Actions.
He began remembering everything.
Mercer opened a small suitcase from the rear seat.
He did not inspect it carefully.
He simply pulled it out and dropped it onto the pavement.
The zipper split when it hit.
Clothing spilled across the shoulder.
A dress shirt slid into a shallow gutter.
One sock blew toward the curb.
Mercer kicked through the pile.