Mercer came back without asking about insurance or explaining what he had learned from the license check. He returned her documents through the open window and said, "Step out of the vehicle."
"For what purpose?"
"I need to inspect it."
"You said you stopped me for crossing a center line."
"I have concerns about what you're transporting."
Simone let a short pause pass. "What facts support those concerns?"
"You asking this many questions is becoming one of them."
She had heard versions of that answer before. The words were a warning disguised as an explanation: cooperation meant not questioning the person in uniform. She decided not to explain her profession. Not yet. Her credentials could establish who she was, but they could not establish whether the sheriff's claim of legal authority had been valid before he knew her identity.
"I will step out if you're giving me a lawful order," she said. "I am not consenting to a search."
"If you have nothing to hide, that shouldn't be an issue."
"My decision not to consent isn't evidence of a crime."
His jaw tightened. "You think you're some sort of lawyer?"
"No, Sheriff. I'm a driver asking what you're doing."
She stepped onto the sidewalk side of the road and closed the door gently behind her. The cold morning air smelled faintly of cut grass and exhaust. She locked the vehicle, then moved to a safe place the sheriff indicated near the passenger side. Mercer walked around the front bumper, studying the tinted windows and the plain black paint as though an ordinary appearance were itself suspicious.
Keller stayed close to the rear. He was looking at the liftgate again.
"Where are you coming from?" Mercer asked.
"A work appointment."
"What kind of work?"
"I don't wish to discuss my employment."
"That's an unusual answer."
"It is an accurate one."
Mercer stopped in front of her. "You know, around here people usually help us clear these things up."
"I'm not preventing you from performing a lawful investigation."
"You're making this difficult."
"I'm not responsible for making it easy to search my belongings without a legal basis."
A third cruiser arrived. Deputy Daniel Price, younger than the other two and lean enough that his uniform seemed slightly too large through the shoulders, stepped out and approached with a glance at the parked SUV. He had started working in Westbridge only two years earlier. Simone knew his name because he had filed a short internal memo about inconsistent warehouse security logs, a memo that subsequently vanished from the department's records. She had not yet been able to arrange a safe interview with him.
Price activated his body camera in full view of the others. "Sheriff, dispatch said you requested another unit. Everything all right?"
"We've got a driver who doesn't want to cooperate," Mercer said. "Stand by."
Price looked at Simone, then at her locked SUV. "What are we looking for?"
"Whatever she's hiding."
The answer was so unguarded that even Keller shifted his weight.
Mercer moved to the rear of the SUV and tugged the liftgate handle. It did not open. He tried again, harder this time, then glared at Simone across the roof.
"Unlock it."
"I do not consent to a search."