Maggie sighed softly and guided the car to the shoulder with precise calm. Years of military discipline shaped every movement she made. Engine off. Hands visible. Window lowered halfway. She waited patiently.
Officer Mercer approached quickly, boots crunching gravel, posture tense in a way that suggested impatience rather than caution.
“License and registration,” he said sharply, skipping any greeting.
“Yes, officer,” Maggie replied calmly. “Before I reach for anything, may I ask what prompted the stop?”
The question seemed harmless, but Mercer’s expression hardened instantly.
“You’ll answer questions when I ask them,” he snapped.
Maggie blinked once, surprised but composed. “I’m complying. I simply want to understand the reason.”
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