"Shut your mouth and get out." Miller screamed, his finger dangerously tight on the trigger. Khloe slowly moved her left hand, pressing the red release button of her seat belt. She pushed the driver's side door open and stepped out into the freezing night air.
She kept her hands raised at shoulder level, palms open, facing him. The moment she was fully out of the car, Miller lunged forward. He slammed his forearm against her back, driving her violently against the side of the Taurus.
The metal buckled slightly under the impact of her chest. "Spread your legs," Miller ordered, roughly kicking her ankles apart. He jammed the barrel of his gun directly against her spine.
"Officer," Khloe said, her cheek pressed against the cold metal of her car roof. "You are making a catastrophic mistake. My badge is in my left pocket." Miller scoffed, a disgusting wet sound. "Yeah, I bet it is. You people always have a story."
The heavy weight of Miller's knee pressed into the back of her thigh, pinning her awkwardly against the sedan. With his left hand, he aggressively patted down her right side, immediately finding the hilt of her Glock 19. He ripped it from her holster with a triumphant grunt.
"Well, well, well," Miller sneered, stepping back slightly, but keeping his own weapon trained directly on her center mass. He tossed her gun onto the hood of her car, the metal clattering loudly. "Carrying a concealed weapon, resisting an officer, failure to comply. You're looking at a 5-year stretch, sweetheart."
"Check the left pocket," Khloe commanded. There was no fear in her voice, only a chilling absolute certainty that infuriated Miller even more. Angered by her tone, Miller reached into her left jacket pocket and aggressively yanked out her leather credential case.
He flipped it open with one hand, shining his blinding flashlight onto the contents. Inside, embedded into black leather, was the heavy gold shield of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Above it, a crisp laminated ID card displaying Khloe's stoic face, the seal of the Department of Justice, and her title, Supervisory Special Agent.
For a fraction of a second, the night went dead silent. Then Miller threw his head back and laughed. It was a loud, ugly, barking laugh that echoed through the empty trees. "Oh, this is rich," Miller chuckled, shaking his head.
He looked down at the badge, then back at Khloe, his eyes filled with malicious amusement. "An FBI agent? You? Oh, man. I've seen some fake IDs in my time, but this takes the cake. Where'd you buy this? The dark web, or did you print it at a local library?"
"Officer Miller," Khloe said, turning her head just enough to look him in the eye. She had already noted his name tag and badge number. "If you call your dispatch and have them run my credential number, 774 Alpha Niner, they will connect you directly to the regional FBI field office."
"They will confirm exactly who I am, and they will also tell you that you are currently assaulting a federal officer." "Shut up!" Miller barked, his amusement instantly evaporating into rage. He hated that she knew police terminology. He hated how calm she was.
He shoved the leather credential case into his own pocket, treating it like contraband. "You're not a fed," Miller spat, leaning in close so she could smell the stale coffee and wintergreen mints on his breath. "You're just another thug driving through my town who thought she could get cute with a fake badge to avoid a gun charge."
"Now put your hands behind your back." Khloe didn't move. "I'm telling you. For your own sake. Call it in." "I said hands behind your back!"
Miller roared.
He violently grabbed her left wrist, wrenching it behind her back with enough force to strain the rotator cuff. In her earpiece, Collins's voice had lost all its professional detachment. He was practically shouting. "Khloe, he's going too far. I am deploying the tactical teams. We are 90 seconds out."
"Hold," Khloe whispered again, gritting her teeth against the pain in her shoulder. "Who are you talking to?" Miller demanded, noticing her muttering. He grabbed her right arm, pulling it back, and the cold, jagged steel of standard-issue Smith and Wesson handcuffs clamped down brutally on her wrists.
The ratchets clicked tightly, biting into her skin. "You're making a fool of yourself, Miller," Khloe said calmly as she was fully restrained. "Is your body camera on?" Miller paused. He looked down at his chest.
The small square lens of his Axon body camera was dark. The blinking red light which indicated it was recording was suspiciously absent. He leaned in, a nasty conspiratorial smirk crossing his face. "Must be a malfunction," he whispered mockingly.
"Looks like it's just my word against yours, agent. And out here in Oakbrook Valley, they always believe me." Khloe closed her eyes for a brief second. She didn't feel fear. She felt a profound, exhausting sadness for the people this man had terrorized before her.
"You have no idea what you've just done," she said quietly. Miller grabbed her by the bicep, spinning her around and shoving her hard against the trunk of the car. "I know exactly what I've done. I'm taking out the trash."
He unclipped the radio microphone from his shoulder, pressing the button to transmit. "Dispatch, this is unit 4. I have one female in custody. Illegal possession of a firearm, resisting arrest and possession of forged federal identification. Need a tow truck at my 10-20 Route 119 near the old station."
"Copy unit 4." The dispatcher's voice crackled back over his radio. "TO is notified. Need any backup?" Miller looked at Khloe, bruised, handcuffed, and leaning against the car. He smiled, a victor's grin. "Negative, dispatch. I've got this completely under control."
Khloe looked up at the night sky. The air was frigid, her breath pluming in the harsh lights of the police cruiser. She tilted her head slightly, her ear angled toward the road behind them. "You hear that, Officer Miller?" Khloe asked, her voice eerily calm.
Miller frowned, his hand dropping from his radio. "Hear what?" "That low hum!" Khloe said, a ghost of a smile touching the corner of her lips. "It sounds like a V8 engine."