"Officer Miller, you are conducting an illegal search," Elena said calmly. Every word she spoke was a nail in his coffin, meticulously hammered into place.
Miller ignored her, violently tossing the driver’s side floor mat onto the concrete. He checked under the seat, rummaged through the door compartments, and forcefully popped open the glovebox, sending a neat stack of vehicle registration and maintenance records scattering across the passenger seat.
Finding nothing of interest, his eyes landed on the center console. Sitting perfectly in the middle, untouched, was Elena’s small, black designer handbag.
He reached out and grabbed it, pulling it from the vehicle by its delicate leather strap.
"Let's see what we have here," Miller muttered, walking back over to where Elena was kneeling. He held the bag up like a trophy.
"That is my personal property," Elena said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, icy whisper. "Do not open that bag."
"Or what?" Miller mocked, untwisting the golden clasp on the front of the purse. "You gonna sue me? Get in line."
He dumped the contents of the bag onto the hood of his police cruiser.
Chapter 8: The Wallet
The items spilled out across the white paint of the cruiser with a soft clatter. A high-end compact mirror. A tube of expensive lipstick. A set of keys on a heavy silver ring. A pack of mints. A sleek, matte black smartphone. And a slim, black leather wallet.
Miller sneered at the collection of mundane, feminine items. There was no gun, no stolen jewelry, no ski mask. Just the everyday carry of a woman who clearly had money.
He picked up the smartphone and tapped the screen. It was locked with a passcode. He tossed it back onto the hood and picked up the slim black leather wallet.
"Let's find out who you really are," Miller said, his tone dripping with disdain. "Let's see if you've got any outstanding warrants for me to serve today."
He flipped the wallet open.
"I am advising you one final time," Elena said from the ground. Her voice was no longer that of a civilian navigating a stressful encounter. It possessed the hard, unyielding edge of absolute authority. "Close the wallet. Uncuff me. And call your watch commander."
"Shut up!" Miller yelled, his patience completely exhausted. He dug his thick fingers into the leather slots of the wallet, searching for a driver's license. "Davis, if she speaks again, tase her."
Davis swallowed hard, his hand resting weakly on his yellow Taser. He looked at Elena, then at the college students recording, and finally at his partner. "Miller, maybe we should just run the plates like she said..."
"I'm running her ID!" Miller snapped, pulling a card from the left side of the wallet.
It was a standard driver's license. Miller squinted at the small text.
Elena Vance. Height: 5'9" Eyes: Brown.
He looked at the address. It was a high-end zip code in the state capital, a neighborhood known for sprawling estates and high-security gates.
Miller scoffed. "Elena Vance. Must have married well, or this SUV is stolen. Let's see what else you're hiding in here."
He opened the deeper fold of the wallet, expecting to find credit cards or cash. Instead, his fingers brushed against a heavy metal clasp hidden within a concealed flap. Frowning, he pulled the flap open.
The item inside slid out and dropped heavily into his palm.