He waited.
Behind him, Langford threw his cruiser into park. He did not radio dispatch immediately, a violation of protocol. He wanted to handle this on his own terms. He unclasped the retaining strap on his holster, a subconscious gesture of aggression, and grabbed his heavy Maglite flashlight.
Stepping out into the cool night air, Langford slammed his door and swaggered toward the classic car, ready to assert his dominance. The crunch of heavy boots on gravel signaled his approach. Elias kept his eyes forward, watching the officer's silhouette in his side mirror. He could see the aggressive posture, the deliberate, heavy steps.
Langford stopped just behind the driver's-side door, intentionally standing in Elias's blind spot to force the older man to turn awkwardly. The heavy beam of the Maglite suddenly blasted through the open window, shining directly into Elias's eyes.
"License, registration, and proof of insurance," Langford barked, his voice laced with unearned authority and thinly veiled contempt. He did not offer a greeting. He did not state the reason for the stop.
Elias squinted against the blinding light, but did not look away. He kept his hands securely on the wheel. "Good evening, officer," Elias said, his tone perfectly measured, radiating a quiet authority that Langford immediately found irritating. "My license is in my wallet, which is in my left interior jacket pocket. The registration and insurance are in the glove compartment. May I reach for them?"
Langford scoffed, shining the light harsher into Elias's face and sweeping it over the custom leather interior. "Just hand them over and lose the attitude. Whose car is this, old man?"
Elias's jaw tightened imperceptibly, but his voice remained incredibly steady. "The vehicle belongs to me, officer. Now, to be clear, I'm going to reach into my jacket with my left hand to retrieve my wallet. Is that understood?"
"I said get the documents," Langford snapped, stepping closer, his hand resting menacingly on the butt of his sidearm.
Elias moved slowly, with deliberate, telegraphed motions. He reached into his suit jacket, retrieved a slim leather wallet, extracted his driver's license, and handed it out the window. He then leaned over, opened the glove box, and retrieved a small folder containing his registration and insurance, passing those out as well.
Langford snatched the papers. He stepped back a half pace and lowered the flashlight just enough to read the documents, though he kept the spill of the light on Elias. He looked at the name: Elias Whitaker. He looked at the address. It was a residence in the city, not Fairhaven.
"Elias," Langford said, intentionally using the first name, a classic power play meant to demean. "What exactly are you doing driving through Fairhaven? You are a long way from your neighborhood."
"I'm driving home from a dinner with my daughter," Elias replied smoothly. "Is there a curfew in Fairhaven County that I am unaware of, officer?"
Elias deliberately paused, waiting for the man to identify himself.
"Officer Langford," the cop sneered, annoyed by the older man's vocabulary and absolute lack of fear. Usually by this point, the people he pulled over were stammering, apologizing, or sweating. This man was completely unfazed, and it made Langford's blood boil.