Ransom
There haven't been many times in my career where I've been nervous as I approach a car on a stop. Basically from the time I decided to be a cop, I went into it with the realization that every stop could be my last. Tonight, this one's got me nervous. Renegade is on the passenger's side, and we glance at each other as we both touch the trunk, walking up on both sides of the car.
“What can I help you with?" the young guy inside asks me before I can even say anything. In my experience, this is cause for concern. Immediately I smell the faint odor of weed.
There's not a passenger, but I can see the beam of light from where Renegade stands, searching for things in plain sight.
“I'm gonna need your license and registration," I start off, waiting to see what he says.
“Don't have it.
