His expression changed.
Whatever he had been told, it was enough to make him interested.
Daniel stepped out of the vehicle and adjusted the radio attached to his shoulder. He watched Emily approach a parked delivery van, then followed at a measured distance.
He had spent years conducting stops and searches. He knew how to approach someone with the appearance of routine professionalism, and he understood that most people became nervous when confronted by a uniformed officer. A confident tone, a demand for identification, and a suggestion that the person had done something wrong were often enough to make them comply.
He also knew that people who did not understand their rights could easily be persuaded to surrender them.
Daniel caught up with Emily beside a gray sedan parked near the sidewalk.
"Excuse me, miss."
Emily did not immediately hear him over her music.
He stepped closer.
"Miss. I'm talking to you."
She noticed him, removed one earbud, and turned around. Her expression was polite but slightly puzzled.
"Yes? Is something wrong?"
Daniel looked her over before answering.
"Where are you going?"
Emily glanced toward the street, then back at him.
"Just walking. Is there a problem?"
"That depends. Do you live around here?"
"Why?"
The question irritated him.
"Because I'm asking you."
Emily studied his face. His tone was unnecessarily aggressive for a simple conversation, and his eyes kept moving toward her pockets rather than toward her face.
She recognized the behavior immediately.
He was not trying to understand who she was.
He was looking for a reason to accuse her of something.
"I was listening to music," Emily replied. "I haven't bothered anybody."
Daniel placed one hand on his belt.
"Take your other earbud out."
She removed it and held both earbuds in her hand.
"Okay. Now can you tell me what's going on?"
"Identification."
"Am I being detained?"
Daniel's eyes narrowed.
"Did I ask you a question?"
"You asked for my identification. I'm asking why."
For a moment, he said nothing.
It was a small exchange, but it had changed the atmosphere between them. Daniel had expected embarrassment, nervousness, perhaps an apologetic explanation. He had not expected her to remain calm while asking him to justify his actions.
He took a step closer.
"You're making this more difficult than it needs to be."
"And you're not explaining why you're stopping me."
Emily's voice remained controlled. She was careful not to raise it, but she watched every movement he made.
Daniel glanced toward the street. A few pedestrians were passing nearby. None seemed particularly interested in the conversation.
That suited him.
He had learned that public spaces could be useful places to create the appearance of an official discovery. If a person was accused loudly enough, bystanders often assumed the accusation had a legitimate basis. Most people did not stop to question a uniform. They saw the badge and filled in the missing facts themselves.
Daniel decided to proceed.
"Have you got anything illegal on you?"
Emily stared at him.
"No."
"You're sure about that?"
"Yes."
"Then you won't mind if I check."
"I do mind. You haven't told me what I've done."
His jaw tightened.
He had heard enough.
Daniel shifted his body so that he stood partly between Emily and the sidewalk. His right shoulder blocked the clearest view of his hands from the people approaching the intersection. To a casual observer, it looked as though he was simply positioning himself to speak with her.
But his left hand was already moving.
Emily noticed the shift.
She also noticed the way he glanced toward her back pocket before looking away.
Her instincts sharpened.
She could have stepped away. She could have demanded that he call a supervisor. She could have ended the encounter by identifying herself and allowing the investigation to move into a different phase.
But she had spent weeks trying to establish whether Daniel was personally involved in the suspicious arrests or merely connected to someone who was.
Now, standing less than an arm's length away, she was beginning to understand that the distinction might not matter.
Daniel moved closer, pretending to inspect the waistband of her jeans while asking another question. His fingers slipped briefly toward the back pocket of her light-blue jeans.
The movement was quick and practiced.
A tiny transparent packet containing a white substance disappeared into the pocket.
His hand withdrew almost immediately.
Emily felt the faint contact against the fabric, but she did not turn around. She kept her eyes on his face.
Daniel had made one critical mistake.