Sarah analyzed the situation. She was unarmed, out of her jurisdiction, and dealing with a clearly unstable local law enforcement officer who was escalating the situation unnecessarily. Resistance here would lead to violence. She unbuckled her seatbelt.
"I am complying with your order, Sheriff," she said calmly, opening the door and stepping out into the blistering heat.
The moment Sarah's feet hit the pavement, Boyd grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around, slamming her chest roughly against the side of the Malibu. The metal was burning hot from the sun, but Sarah didn't wince.
"Spread 'em," Boyd ordered, kicking her feet apart with his heavy boots. He patted her down roughly, a blatant display of dominance rather than a genuine search for weapons.
"You have no probable cause for this search, or this detention," Sarah stated, her voice muffled slightly by her proximity to the car's roof, yet still completely composed.
"I'm investigating a suspected DUI," Boyd lied smoothly, pulling out a pair of heavy steel handcuffs. "Your eyes look glassy, and you're speaking deliberately to hide a slur."
"I have not consumed any alcohol or narcotics. I am happy to take a breathalyzer test here on the shoulder," Sarah offered.
"I don't need a machine to tell me when someone's under the influence," Boyd said, grabbing her wrists and wrenching them behind her back. The steel cuffs ratcheted tightly around her skin, biting into her wrists.
"Sheriff," Sarah said, her voice dropping an octave, losing the polite veneer of a civilian and taking on the hardened edge of a commander. "I strongly advise you to reconsider this course of action. Furthermore, there is sensitive government property in the trunk of this vehicle. It is legally protected and cannot be searched without federal authorization."
Boyd laughed a harsh, grating sound. He spun her around to face him. "Government property? Federal authorization? Lady, you are in Oak Haven County. I am the federal authorization. Now get in the back of the car."
He shoved her toward the cruiser, forcing her head down as he pushed her into the cramped, sweltering back seat. The hard plastic seat offered no comfort, and the cage separating them made the space feel claustrophobic.
As Boyd slammed the door shut, Sarah adjusted her posture as best she could with her hands bound. She looked out the window at the shimmering heat rising from the asphalt. She wasn't angry; anger was a useless emotion that clouded judgment. She was calculating.
Boyd got into the driver's seat, turning on the AC to blast in his face while leaving the back seat suffocatingly hot. He picked up his radio. "Dispatch, this is Unit One. I'm bringing in a 10-15. Female, out of state. Resisting, suspicion of DUI, and general belligerence. Send a tow for a rental vehicle on mile marker 112."
Sarah sat in silence as the cruiser pulled away, leaving her rental car on the side of the highway. She began running through the protocols in her head. She had missed her 1400 hours check-in. By 1500 hours, her automated fail-safes would trigger. By 1600 hours, the Pentagon would classify her status as 'Missing-Critical.'
Sheriff Boyd Cleary had no idea that he hadn't just arrested a civilian. He had abducted the United States Deputy Secretary of Defense for Intelligence, Major General Sarah Hayes. And the clock was ticking.
The Oak Haven Sheriff's Department was housed in a squat, brick building that smelled of damp concrete, floor wax, and decades of stale cigarette smoke. When Boyd hauled Sarah through the heavy glass doors, the few officers present looked up with mild interest.
Deputy Mark Miller, a younger man who still possessed a shred of idealism that the department hadn't beaten out of him, stood up from his desk. He took one look at the impeccably dressed, handcuffed woman and frowned. She didn't look like their usual weekend drunks or highway runners. She wore a tailored charcoal blazer, perfectly pressed slacks, and carried herself with an aura of absolute, terrifying calm.
"What do we got, Boss?" Miller asked, reaching for a booking sheet.
"Got us a live one from D.C.," Boyd grunted, pushing Sarah toward the booking counter. "Speeding, reckless driving, resisting arrest, suspected DUI. Refused to comply with lawful orders."
Miller looked at Sarah. Her eyes were clear, her posture perfect despite the restraints. "Ma'am? We're going to need to empty your pockets."
"I have no items on my person," Sarah replied directly to Miller, her tone respectful. "My purse is in my vehicle, which the Sheriff has impounded illegally. I am requesting my constitutionally guaranteed phone call, and I am formally requesting that a federal magistrate be notified of my detention."
Boyd scoffed, walking around the counter and pouring himself a cup of black coffee. "Federal magistrate? Listen to her, Miller. Thinks she's on an episode of Law and Order. Put her in Cell Three. I'll process her when I finish my coffee."
Miller hesitated. "Sheriff, shouldn't we let her make a call? Protocol says—"
"I write the protocol here, Miller!" Boyd barked, slamming his mug down. "She gets a call when I say she gets a call. Right now, she needs to sit in a cell and think about the attitude she gave me on my highway. Lock her up."
Miller swallowed hard, avoiding Sarah's eyes. He walked around the counter, took her gently by the arm, and led her down a short, dimly lit hallway lined with five iron-bar cells. Most were empty, save for a local who was sleeping off a bender in Cell One.
He unlocked Cell Three and removed Sarah's handcuffs. She rubbed her reddened wrists slowly, stepping into the small, concrete box containing nothing but a metal cot and a steel toilet.
"I'm... I'm sorry about him," Miller whispered, keeping an eye out for Boyd. "He gets riled up easily. Just lay low. I'll try to get you to the phone in a bit."