"Matches."
"Insurance?"
"Active."
Everything was clean.
Every check had confirmed what the woman had said from the beginning.
She held out her hand.
"My license."
Instead of returning it, the senior deputy walked toward the motorcycle.
"Open the storage compartment."
She looked at him.
"There is almost no storage compartment."
"Open it."
"Why?"
His voice rose.
"Because I told you to."
The woman turned toward the younger deputy.
"Is that the legal justification for the search as well?"
The younger deputy looked uncomfortable.
The senior deputy stepped closer.
"You need to lose the attitude."
"And you need to articulate a lawful reason before searching my property."
His face hardened.
Then he said the words that changed the entire encounter.
"Suspicion of stolen property."
She looked at him.
"The VIN is clean."
"We're still investigating."
"You verified ownership."
"Turn around."
She stared at him.
"For what offense?"
"Obstruction."
A tiny, incredulous laugh escaped her.
"Asking why you're searching my motorcycle is obstruction?"
"Hands behind your back."
"For what offense?"
"Turn around."
The younger deputy reached for her arm.
She looked directly at him.
"Think carefully before you do that."
He hesitated.
The senior deputy barked:
"Cuff her."
The younger deputy grabbed her wrist.
The woman didn't resist.
She slowly turned around.
One cuff closed.
Then the other.
The sound was strangely small.
The senior deputy stepped in front of her.
"Maybe now you understand who's in charge."
She looked through his sunglasses.
"No."
His expression changed.
"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."
The woman's face became colder.
"Then tighten those cuffs."
The deputy blinked.
"What?"
"I want them visible when you enter my courtroom."
He laughed.
"Your courtroom?"
He stepped closer.
"Who the hell do you think you are?"