Something changed in her expression.
Not fear.
Something colder.
“Then tighten those cuffs.”
The deputy blinked.
“What?”
“I want them visible when you enter my courtroom.”
The Revelation
The deputy stared at her.
“Your courtroom?”
He stepped closer.
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
The woman held his gaze.
“The federal judge hearing your department's case in forty minutes.”
Silence.
The second deputy stopped searching the motorcycle.
The senior deputy laughed.
It came out too loudly.
“Federal judge.”
“Yes.”
“Right.”
She said nothing.
“You expect me to believe a federal judge rides around dressed like this?”
Her expression remained controlled.
“I wasn't aware judicial appointments included wardrobe restrictions on Saturdays.”
“It's Tuesday.”
“I know.”
That wiped away his smile.
She continued.
“And I'm due at the federal courthouse downtown at eleven.”
The younger deputy glanced at his watch.
10:21 a.m.
Something shifted in his face.
The senior deputy noticed.
“Don't.”
“Maybe we should verify.”
“Verify what?”
“Her identity.”
“We already ran her.”
“That system wouldn't necessarily list occupation.”
The woman spoke quietly.
“Correct.”
The senior deputy turned toward her.
“You stay quiet.”
She smiled faintly.
“You asked who I was.”
The deputy marched toward his cruiser.
Inside, he entered her information into another database.
Nothing unusual appeared.
Driver's license.
Vehicle registration.
Address.
No criminal record.
He returned.
“Nice try.”
The woman asked:
“Which database did you check?”
He stopped.
“Excuse me?”
“The state driver system?”
“That's none of your concern.”
“So yes.”
She looked toward the younger deputy.
“Call the United States District Court clerk's office.”
The senior deputy snapped:
“Nobody is calling anybody.”
The woman tilted her head.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“You seem remarkably afraid of verification for someone who believes I'm lying.”
His face reddened.
He reached toward his radio.
“Transport unit to checkpoint.”
The younger deputy stepped closer.
“Sergeant.”
“What?”
“Maybe wait.”
The senior deputy turned.
“Are you questioning me?”
“No, but—”
“But nothing.”
He pointed toward the woman.
“She's detained.”
The woman looked at the younger deputy.
“You should probably remember exactly when you realized there might be a problem.”
He swallowed.
“Why?”
“Because someone will ask.”
Your Honor
Seven minutes later, another cruiser arrived.
A female lieutenant stepped out.
She looked toward the handcuffed motorcyclist.
“What happened?”
The senior deputy answered quickly.
“Possible stolen vehicle. Subject refused instructions and became obstructive.”
The lieutenant looked at the Ducati.
“VIN?”
“Clean.”
“Registration?”
“Matches her.”
“Insurance?”
“Valid.”
The lieutenant stared at him.
“What exactly makes it possibly stolen?”