“I asked a straightforward question.”
“You're at a county checkpoint.”
“I can read the sign.”
“You've got a problem with deputies doing their job?”
“That depends on what you believe your job permits.”
The temperature of the encounter changed.
Cars continued moving behind them.
Several motorists slowed to watch.
The senior deputy held up her license.
“You know what bothers me?”
She looked at him.
“I suspect you're about to tell me.”
“A woman riding alone on a motorcycle worth more than some people's cars.”
She stared.
“That bothers you?”
“A bike like this gets stolen.”
“So do pickup trucks.”
His face hardened.
“You getting smart?”
“No.”
She pointed toward the Ducati.
“I'm waiting for you to explain why ownership documents matching my license are apparently insufficient.”
The second deputy returned from his cruiser.
“VIN's clean.”
The senior deputy barely reacted.
“Run it again.”
“I did.”
“Run her.”
The woman crossed her arms.
“You already have my license.”
“Then you've got nothing to worry about.”
She almost smiled.
“That phrase usually means the opposite.”
Five minutes passed.
The second deputy returned.
“No warrants.”
“Registration?”
“Matches.”
“Insurance?”
“Active.”
Everything checked out.
The woman held out her hand.
“My license.”
Instead of returning it, the senior deputy walked toward the Ducati.
“Open the storage compartment.”
“There is almost no storage compartment.”
“Open it.”
“Why?”
His voice rose.
“Because I told you to.”
The woman looked toward the second deputy.
“Is that your legal justification too?”
He avoided her eyes.
The senior deputy stepped closer.
“You need to lose the attitude.”
“And you need to articulate a lawful reason before searching my property.”
The deputy's jaw tightened.
Then he spoke.
“Suspicion of stolen property.”
“The VIN is clean.”
“We're still investigating.”
“You verified ownership.”
“Hands behind your back.”
The woman stared at him.
“What?”
“Hands behind your back.”
“For what offense?”
“Obstruction.”
A tiny, incredulous laugh escaped her.
“Asking why you're searching my motorcycle is obstruction?”
“Turn around.”
The second deputy reached for her arm.
The woman looked directly at him.
“Think carefully before you do that.”
He paused.
The senior deputy barked:
“Cuff her.”
The younger deputy grabbed her wrist.
She did not resist.
She simply turned slowly and allowed him to place her hands behind her.
Metal closed around one wrist.
Then the other.
Click.
Click.
The sound was strangely small.
The senior deputy stepped in front of her.
“Maybe now you understand who's in charge.”
The woman looked directly through his sunglasses.
“No.”
He frowned.
“No?”
“I understand exactly what you've done.”
He pointed toward the Ducati.
“A bike like this isn't yours. Save the story for booking.”