didn’t have the time or resources to prove our innocence
should something bizarre happen. Being held up in a no-name town, where the
locals had all the good cards, and we would be treated as the hostile intruders;
it was not something I wanted to deal with right now. And even if everything
went right, it could still end up costing us hundreds of dollars for food and
lodging. Will was right; we had to let it lie.
But it bothered me to no end
that this crazy guy was out there, stalking the public, and there wasn’t a damn
thing we could do about it. Even an anonymous phone call could be traced, and that
wacko might have the resources to do it, especially if his father was a judge
or politician. He didn’t seem like the type that would just walk away from this.
His honor, or whatever his warped mind considered honor, was damaged. I’m
certain, given the opportunity, he would evoke revenge in the most destructive manner
he could conceive. And the thought of ever having to face him again frightens
me. I remind myself that in a couple of hours we will be out of this state and
beyond his influence. This whole dirty mess will be behind us; I will never
have to deal with this again. And that makes me glad.
“How’s your lip?” Will asks.
“Hurts.”
“Wrap an ice cube in a napkin
and press it against your lip. It’ll keep the swelling down.”
I reach into the cooler,
retrieve an ice cube, then do as he says.
“Better?” he asks.
“Yeah, much better.”
I settle back, close my eyes,
and try to get some much-needed rest. But it’s not to be. Will breaks the
silence with the last thing I want to hear.
“I think that’s a cop car
behind us.”
I sneak a peek and can
clearly see the outline of the lights on the roof.
“Probably just happens to be
going in our direction,” I say. “Nothing to worry about.”
But I was worried. Who knew
where he came from or what his motives were? I check again and notice the
police cruiser is getting closer. The whole thing is making me nervous, but I
keep telling myself there is no problem, just a coincidence. Then the police
lights go on lighting up the entire highway and the cruiser pulls up right
behind us. Will looks at me and shrugs: “I have to stop.”
I knew he was right; there
was no chance we could outrun a police car, nor would it be wise to. It would
give them a reason to arrest us and that would mean a trip to the police
station, bringing us right back into that psycho’s grip.
Will eases the PT Cruiser
onto the shoulder and turns off the engine. The highway is dark and foreboding
save for an occasional car racing by in the passing lane. The patrol car pulls
up behind us and directs a spotlight onto our vehicle. The officer in the driver’s
seat gets out and strolls over to Will, all the time shining a flashlight
around the inside of our vehicle as if he is searching for something. Will
rolls down the window. I catch a glimpse of the officer’s badge as a passing
car’s headlights reflect off it. He’s a North Carolina State Trooper and
thank-goodness for that. I’m glad he’s not one of those local cops. I don’t
know if it’s true, but up north, southern cops have a reputation of bending the
law any way it suits them, all in the interest of law enforcement of course. The
state police, on the other hand, have little interest in local issues and go
pretty much by the book.
The officer approaches the
window and addresses Will.
“License and registration,”
he says.
Will hands him what he asks.
The cop studies it for a moment.
“So you’re an exterminator.”
“No, not really,” Will says.
“Then how do you explain this?”
he says, pointing to the door.
“Oh, the sign. The car came
like that.”
“I see, impersonating an
exterminator.”
“Is there a law against it?”
“Could be, if you’re
deceiving someone.”
“We’re just passing through. Ain’t
no time to deceive anyone.”
The cop gazes at Will for a
should something bizarre happen. Being held up in a no-name town, where the
locals had all the good cards, and we would be treated as the hostile intruders;
it was not something I wanted to deal with right now. And even if everything
went right, it could still end up costing us hundreds of dollars for food and
lodging. Will was right; we had to let it lie.
But it bothered me to no end
that this crazy guy was out there, stalking the public, and there wasn’t a damn
thing we could do about it. Even an anonymous phone call could be traced, and that
wacko might have the resources to do it, especially if his father was a judge
or politician. He didn’t seem like the type that would just walk away from this.
His honor, or whatever his warped mind considered honor, was damaged. I’m
certain, given the opportunity, he would evoke revenge in the most destructive manner
he could conceive. And the thought of ever having to face him again frightens
me. I remind myself that in a couple of hours we will be out of this state and
beyond his influence. This whole dirty mess will be behind us; I will never
have to deal with this again. And that makes me glad.
“How’s your lip?” Will asks.
“Hurts.”
“Wrap an ice cube in a napkin
and press it against your lip. It’ll keep the swelling down.”
I reach into the cooler,
retrieve an ice cube, then do as he says.
“Better?” he asks.
“Yeah, much better.”
I settle back, close my eyes,
and try to get some much-needed rest. But it’s not to be. Will breaks the
silence with the last thing I want to hear.
“I think that’s a cop car
behind us.”
I sneak a peek and can
clearly see the outline of the lights on the roof.
“Probably just happens to be
going in our direction,” I say. “Nothing to worry about.”
But I was worried. Who knew
where he came from or what his motives were? I check again and notice the
police cruiser is getting closer. The whole thing is making me nervous, but I
keep telling myself there is no problem, just a coincidence. Then the police
lights go on lighting up the entire highway and the cruiser pulls up right
behind us. Will looks at me and shrugs: “I have to stop.”
I knew he was right; there
was no chance we could outrun a police car, nor would it be wise to. It would
give them a reason to arrest us and that would mean a trip to the police
station, bringing us right back into that psycho’s grip.
Will eases the PT Cruiser
onto the shoulder and turns off the engine. The highway is dark and foreboding
save for an occasional car racing by in the passing lane. The patrol car pulls
up behind us and directs a spotlight onto our vehicle. The officer in the driver’s
seat gets out and strolls over to Will, all the time shining a flashlight
around the inside of our vehicle as if he is searching for something. Will
rolls down the window. I catch a glimpse of the officer’s badge as a passing
car’s headlights reflect off it. He’s a North Carolina State Trooper and
thank-goodness for that. I’m glad he’s not one of those local cops. I don’t
know if it’s true, but up north, southern cops have a reputation of bending the
law any way it suits them, all in the interest of law enforcement of course. The
state police, on the other hand, have little interest in local issues and go
pretty much by the book.
The officer approaches the
window and addresses Will.
“License and registration,”
he says.
Will hands him what he asks.
The cop studies it for a moment.
“So you’re an exterminator.”
“No, not really,” Will says.
“Then how do you explain this?”
he says, pointing to the door.
“Oh, the sign. The car came
like that.”
“I see, impersonating an
exterminator.”
“Is there a law against it?”
“Could be, if you’re
deceiving someone.”
“We’re just passing through. Ain’t
no time to deceive anyone.”
The cop gazes at Will for a
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