He was staring straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

“Mr. Sterling, open the door and step out of the vehicle immediately,” the officer repeated.

A second officer stood near the passenger side, his hand resting near his holster.

For a long moment, nothing happened.

The engine of Derek’s car rumbled, the exhaust pipe sending white plumes of steam into the cold air.

I wondered if he would try to ram the cruisers.

He was arrogant enough to believe he could escape, to believe the rules did not apply to him.

Then, the brake lights flickered and went dark.

The driver’s side door opened slowly.

Derek stepped out into the snow, his expensive leather boots slipping slightly on the icy gravel.

He did not have his coat on; he was still in his tailored suit jacket.

The wind caught his hair, blowing it across his forehead.

“What is the meaning of this?” Derek demanded, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet yard.

“I am a resident here. I have done nothing wrong.”

“Step to the back of the vehicle, sir,” the first officer said, his tone perfectly level.