"Good evening, officer. Is there a problem?" Travis shone the blinding beam of the flashlight directly into her eyes, ignoring the fact that the dome light was already on. He leaned in, his breath smelling of stale tobacco and cheap peppermint.
"License, registration, and proof of insurance. Now."
Emma blinked against the harsh light, but kept her voice even, completely devoid of the fear Travis was used to eliciting. "My license is in my wallet, which is in my purse on the passenger seat. My registration is in the glove compartment. Which would you like me to reach for first?"
Travis scoffed, annoyed by her calm demeanor. People like her were supposed to be shaking. They were supposed to be stammering. "Just get the license slowly. Don't try anything stupid."
Emma slowly reached over, grabbed her wallet, and handed over her Illinois driver's license.
Travis snatched it from her hand. He looked at the ID, then back at her. "Emma Grace, long way from Chicago, Emma. What are you doing in Oak Haven?"
"I'm moving here," Emma said politely. "I start a new job on Monday." "Right. A new job."
Travis mocked, shining the light around the pristine leather interior of the car. "Must be a hell of a job to afford a $150,000 car. What do you do, Emma? You a rapper? You sling something on the side."
Ben, the rookie, shifted uncomfortably behind Travis. "Travis, come on." "Shut up, Benny," Travis snapped before turning his aggressive gaze back to Emma. "Step out of the vehicle."
Emma's hands tightened slightly on the wheel. "Officer, you haven't told me why you pulled me over. I was obeying the speed limit. My tags are up to date and my taillights are fully functional."
"I pulled you over because you swerved over the yellow line," Travis lied smoothly, a practiced line he had used a hundred times before. "And now I'm asking you to step out of the car because I smell marijuana." Emma stared at him. She didn't smoke.
She had never touched a drug in her life. The car was brand new, smelling only of fresh leather and the lavender air freshener hanging from the vent. This was it. This was the exact cancer she had been brought in to cut out.
"Officer," Emma said, her voice dropping an octave, carrying the authoritative timbre she usually reserved for briefing rooms. "There is no marijuana in this car. I have not swerved. I strongly suggest you run my license, write a citation if you feel you must, and let me go on my way."
Travis's face flushed red with anger. "Are you telling me how to do my job? Get out of the damn car before I pull you out, drag you through the mud and charge you with resisting arrest." Emma could have ended it right there.