"He's a nobody," Miller shouted, losing his temper. Hook up the damn truck or I'll have Ironclad removed from the precinct's vendor rotation. Intimidated by the threat to his livelihood, Pete sighed, pulled on his heavy leather gloves, and went to the winch controls. Harrison watched as the chains were dragged out. The anger which he had kept tightly coiled in his chest finally began to seep into his voice.
"Officer Miller," Harrison said, "you have detained me without cause. You have seized my wallet without a warrant. You are now illegally seizing my vehicle. I'm going to ask you one final time to look at my identification. Look behind the driver's license."
"I don't care if you've got a Costco gold card back there, Harry," Miller sneered, pulling out his handcuffs. In fact, since you won't sit down, you can wear these. Miller grabbed Harrison's left wrist, twisting it behind his back, and clamped the cold steel of the handcuff onto his wrist. Before Miller could secure the right hand, the screech of tires echoed down the street. A white Ford Explorer with police decals slammed into park behind the tow truck.
The door flew open, and Sergeant Greg Hayes stepped out. Hayes was a 20-year veteran, a man who looked perpetually exhausted, mostly from cleaning up the messes left by hot-headed rookies like Miller. Hayes took in the scene, the tow truck driver hooking up a pristine classic truck, Miller struggling to cuff a remarkably calm older man, and the total lack of any visible crime scene. "Miller, what the hell is going on here?" Sergeant Hayes barked as he marched up the driveway.
"Suspect is being uncooperative, Sergeant." Miller said, breathing heavily. "Refused to follow commands, interfering with an impound." "Impound for what?" Hayes demanded.
"Is the vehicle stolen?" "Suspected burglary, Sarge. He was casing the house." Miller said proudly. Sergeant Hayes looked at Harrison.
He looked at the Georgetown sweatshirt, the expensive but well-worn boots, the clipboard resting on the hood of the police cruiser where Harrison had gently set it. "Sir, are you okay?" Hayes asked Harrison. "I have been better, Sergeant." Harrison said evenly, his left arm still awkwardly twisted behind him by the single handcuff.
"Your officer has my wallet in his right front pocket. I would greatly appreciate it if you retrieved it and examined my credentials." Hayes glared at Miller. "Give me the wallet, Derek." "Sarge, this guy is playing you."
"Give me the damn wallet, Miller." Hayes roared, his voice echoing off the nearby houses. Startled, Miller reached into his pocket and handed the leather wallet to his sergeant. Hayes opened it. He saw the state ID.