And the officer still did not know who Marcus Vance really was.
Miller took another breath and straightened his uniform shirt, trying to restore the appearance of authority he had lost during the struggle.
OFFICER BRAD MILLER: "All right. We're going to do this properly now."
Marcus watched him carefully.
MARCUS VANCE: "Are we?"
OFFICER BRAD MILLER: "You're going to identify yourself. Then you're going to explain why you resisted a lawful stop."
MARCUS VANCE: "You haven't established that the stop was lawful."
OFFICER BRAD MILLER: "I don't need to explain every decision I make."
MARCUS VANCE: "You will when someone asks you to justify it."
Miller looked toward the delivery driver again.
The man was no longer pretending to be uninterested. He stood beside the storefront, watching quietly, his phone still in his hand.
The officer realized that the encounter was no longer as private as it had seemed.
He had wanted a simple arrest, one that would produce a report and allow him to return to his shift believing that he had once again demonstrated his control.
Instead, he had attracted a witness, engaged in a physical struggle, and found himself defending actions he had never expected to explain.
He needed to regain the advantage.
OFFICER BRAD MILLER: "You have identification?"
MARCUS VANCE: "Yes."
OFFICER BRAD MILLER: "Then show me."
Marcus slowly reached toward the inside of his jacket.
Miller immediately tensed, his eyes fixed on the movement.
OFFICER BRAD MILLER: "Easy. Don't make any sudden moves."
MARCUS VANCE: "I'm reaching for my identification."
OFFICER BRAD MILLER: "I told you to move slowly."
Marcus complied, drawing his hand out carefully.
For the first time that night, Miller seemed to believe he might finally obtain something useful from the encounter. An identification card could provide a name, an address, and a starting point for the official report he intended to write.
He leaned forward slightly.
Marcus looked directly at him.
Then, instead of handing over an ordinary identification card, Marcus paused with his hand still inside the jacket.
The officer's expression changed.
OFFICER BRAD MILLER: "What are you doing?"
MARCUS VANCE: "Making sure you understand something."
OFFICER BRAD MILLER: "I don't have time for games."
MARCUS VANCE: "Neither do I."
Marcus slowly withdrew a small black credential holder.
Miller watched it emerge, initially assuming it was a wallet or a standard identification case. He was already preparing another demand when Marcus opened the holder and turned it toward him.
The streetlight caught the surface of the credential.
For a fraction of a second, Miller could not make sense of what he was seeing.
His eyes moved across the identification, then returned to Marcus's face. He looked at the credential again, as though a second inspection might somehow change what it said.
Marcus remained silent.
The delivery driver watched from several yards away, unable to read the details from his position but aware that the atmosphere had changed.
Miller's grip loosened around the plastic bag.
OFFICER BRAD MILLER: "What is that?"
Marcus held the credential steady.
MARCUS VANCE: "Read it."
Miller leaned closer.
The officer's expression began to change, not all at once but in a series of small reactions that Marcus noticed immediately. His eyes widened slightly. His jaw tightened. The confidence that had carried him through the first half of the encounter began to disappear.
He looked up at Marcus, then down at the credential again.
The name was clear.
The official title was unmistakable.
And suddenly, every careless word Miller had spoken, every unnecessary movement, and every decision he had made beside the sedan seemed to return to him at once.
He had spent the evening believing he was dealing with an ordinary stranger.
He was now beginning to understand that the stranger might be in a position to examine the very conduct Miller had spent years concealing.
Miller swallowed.
OFFICER BRAD MILLER: "Internal Affairs?"
Marcus did not lower the credential.
MARCUS VANCE: "That's right."
For several seconds, Miller said nothing.
The distant traffic continued moving through the city. The streetlamp hummed softly above them, and the delivery driver remained near the storefront, watching the officer's expression shift from anger to disbelief.
Marcus closed the credential holder but kept it in his hand.
MARCUS VANCE: "My name is Marcus Vance. I'm an investigator with Internal Affairs."
Miller stared at him.
He seemed to search for a way to reinterpret the statement, perhaps hoping that the credential was false or that the man had exaggerated his position. But Marcus's composure, the official identification, and the events of the previous several minutes were beginning to form a picture that Miller could no longer easily dismiss.
OFFICER BRAD MILLER: "Why didn't you say that earlier?"
Marcus's expression remained steady.
MARCUS VANCE: "Would it have changed what you did?"
Miller opened his mouth.
No answer came.
MARCUS VANCE: "You approached me without a reason. You planted evidence. You attacked me when I challenged your conduct. And when you couldn't control the situation, you tried to make a witness support your version of events."