Officer Mercer leaned through the open driver’s window with the pepper-spray can still extended. “Keep reaching and I’ll drop you where you sit, lady!” he shouted, loud enough for neighbors across the cul-de-sac to hear.
Denise forced one eye open through the searing pain. “You just assaulted a federal officer in her own driveway.”
Mercer laughed again, the aggressive confidence radiating off him. “I don’t care who you pretend to be. You’re going in cuffs.”
Denise reached for the door handle instead of her identification, her vision too blurred to safely search the console. “Then cuff me fast,” she said through clenched teeth, “before your dispatcher learns who you just maced.”
Mercer grabbed her right wrist, twisted it behind her back, and shoved her hard against the side of the vehicle. “Stop resisting!”
“I am not resisting.” Denise’s words came broken between harsh coughs.
Bell rushed forward, panic finally breaking his composure. “Wade, what are you doing?”
“She reached into the vehicle!” Mercer pulled Denise’s other wrist backward. “Possible weapon!”
“I told you I was retrieving identification.”
Metal cuffs snapped tightly around her wrists.
Across the street, three neighbors had come outside. An elderly man held a phone horizontally, already recording the scene. Denise leaned against her SUV, forcing herself to breathe through the burning sensation. She kept her voice measured.
“My federal credential is still inside the console.”
Mercer sneered. “And I’m the president.”
Bell looked at him sharply. “Enough.” He reached for his radio. “Dispatch, supervisor unit twelve. Run Denise Carter, date of birth from license. Also check any federal law-enforcement flag attached.”
Dispatch returned within thirty seconds. “Unit twelve, Virginia license valid. Address matches current location. Vehicle registration also returns Denise Elaine Carter at the same address.”