"Check my ID. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not resisting anything. But you need to understand you have no legal reason to be doing this." That was the wrong thing to say, even though it was true.
Petrov's face went red. Being told he was wrong, calmly, by a man who wouldn't break was too much for him. "Non-compliant," Petrov muttered, and his hand went to his radio. "I haven't done anything," Mackie said again, steady and unmoved.
"Dispatch, I need backup," Petrov said into his radio, eyes locked on Mackie the entire time, like he was daring him to say one more word. "Non-compliant male, refusing to identify himself. Send units." Mackie felt his stomach drop.
Not from fear. From disbelief. He hadn't refused anything. He'd answered every question.
Now, because he wouldn't shake, wouldn't shrink, and wouldn't perform the fear Petrov seemed to need from him, backup was coming. Darlene stood frozen in the doorway, her phone already rising in her hand. Mackie lowered his own hands slightly, keeping them open and visible. He braced for what was coming next.
The sirens came before the cars did. Three of them, rising and falling in the quiet morning air, getting louder until they turned onto the street one after another and screeched up to the curb. Doors flew open. Three officers stepped out fast, hands already near their belts.
One of them, younger, with tired eyes, was the first to reach the driveway. His name tag read Bishop. Within seconds, Mackie was surrounded. Four officers now.
Petrov stood in front of him. Two unnamed officers fanned out to his sides. Bishop hung back near the truck, uncertain, watching the scene like he wasn't sure what he'd walked into. "This the guy?" one of the officers asked, hand resting on his holster.
"Yeah," Petrov said. There was something ugly in his grin now, something that hadn't been there a minute ago. Having backup changed him. Made him bigger.
"Won't cooperate. Thinks he's better than the rest of us." "I haven't refused a single thing," Mackie said, keeping his hands raised and his voice level. "Ask me anything. I'll answer."
"We don't need your permission to ask," Petrov snapped. He stepped in close, closer than before, close enough to grab. His hand shot out and closed around the collar of Mackie's shirt, yanking him half a step forward. "Maybe you need somebody to teach you a little respect. That work for you?"
The words hit the quiet street like a slap. Darlene, still in the doorway, gasped and raised her phone higher, recording everything now. Her hand was shaking but steady enough to keep the frame locked on her husband. Mackie didn't fight the grip.
He didn't pull away. He kept his hands up. He kept his voice calm even with Petrov's fist twisted in his shirt. "I haven't done anything to disrespect you."
"I've asked you to check the deed. I've told you my name." "Shut up," Petrov said. The two unnamed officers moved closer.
They boxed Mackie in from both sides now, a wall of navy blue and badges. Bishop still hadn't moved from where he stood by the truck. His jaw was tight. His eyes darted between Petrov and Mackie like he was watching something he didn't want to be part of.