"No," Victoria replied, her eyes locked onto his, unblinking. "I'm not trying to scare you. I'm just warning you. I'm placing it on the record that you have detained me without cause, used excessive physical force, and completely failed to complete any preliminary paperwork or state a legal reason for this arrest."
Her precise, clinical breakdown of their misconduct momentarily stalled the first officer. For a split second, a shadow of doubt flickered across his stern features. But his ego quickly squashed it. He had done this a hundred times before to a hundred different people who couldn't fight back. Why should this girl be any different?
"We'll sort all of that out later," he replied dismissively, waving a hand in the air. "Right now, you can go with us. You're coming to the station."
The second officer stepped forward, grabbing Victoria by the elbow to drag her toward the back of the patrol cruiser. "Come on, let's move."
"Wait," Victoria said. The command in her voice was so absolute, so devoid of fear, that the second officer actually stopped pulling her.
Victoria remained silent for a few agonizing seconds. The wind rustled through the tall grass lining the highway. The flashing lights of the police cruiser cast long, eerie shadows across the asphalt. She let the silence build, letting the officers marinate in the strange reality that their captive was entirely unafraid.
Then, she spoke again, her tone conversational, almost polite. "Fine. I will go with you. But first, I need you to take something out of the right pocket of my shorts."
Both officers stopped dead in their tracks.
"With my hands cuffed tightly behind my back," Victoria continued, shifting her weight slightly to highlight her restraints, "I obviously can't do it myself."
Chapter 6: The Right Pocket
The officers exchanged bewildered glances. In all their years of throwing their weight around, they had never encountered a suspect who, after being forcefully handcuffed and thrown against a car, calmly asked them to check her pockets. Usually, suspects begged, cried, or yelled obscenities. This cold, calculated composure was entirely alien to them.
The second officer smirked, a cruel, mocking smile returning to his face. He nudged his partner. "She's trying to play games," he whispered loudly. He was convinced she was trying to trick them, perhaps claiming she had a medical condition, or worse, hoping to accuse them of inappropriate touching.
"What's in there?" the first officer demanded, his voice thick with suspicion. He took a half-step back, his hand hovering cautiously near his holster.
"Take it out and see for yourselves," Victoria said calmly, offering no further explanation. "You'll see when you get it out."
The silence stretched again. The tall, broad-shouldered officer looked at the young woman pinned against the car. She wasn't carrying a weapon; her fitted denim shorts clearly didn't conceal anything dangerous. The right pocket had a slight bulge, something small and flat.
Curiosity, mingled with a burning desire to prove he was in absolute control, got the better of him. He stepped up behind Victoria. "If this is some kind of joke, things are going to get much worse for you," he growled.
He reached out and carefully slipped his thick fingers into the right pocket of her shorts. He felt the fabric, his fingers brushing against a small, stiff object. It felt like a wallet, but slightly heavier, encased in smooth material. Gripping it firmly, he pulled it out into the flashing red and blue light.
For a long, suspended moment, neither of the men understood exactly what they were looking at. The first officer held it up to the light, squinting.