few
seconds.
“Okay, let’s keep it that
way,” he says, and hands Will back the license.
The other cop approaches my
window and then stands right outside the door, repeatedly slapping the
flashlight against his free hand, as if he were holding a night stick. I stare
straight ahead pretending not to notice.
Suddenly I realize I’m still
holding the ice cube and napkin against my swollen lip. As inconspicuously as
possible, I allow my hand to slowly slide down my chest and onto the seat. I then
relax my grip allowing the napkin and ice cube to slip through my fingers and onto
the floor. It would be a big mistake to draw any attention to the cut on my
lip.
The officer shines his
flashlight through the window and onto my face. I continue to stare straight
ahead, avoid looking at him. He taps on the window so I turn to face him. He motions
me to roll down the window so I do what he asks.
“I need to see your license
ma’am.”
“But I wasn’t driving.”
“Doesn’t matter, I need a
positive ID.”
I reach into my purse and
hand him my license. He glances at it and then does the unimaginable.
He places it into his shirt
pocket!
I feel my heart pounding and
my hands begin to shake.
“Is there a problem?” I ask.
“We have reason to believe
you and your friend just came from that rest stop about twenty minutes up the
road.”
Thoughts race through my
mind. If we denied it, and he had an eye witness, he would know we were lying,
and that would give them grounds to bring us in for questioning. But if we
admit it, then that would open us up to more questioning, and who knows where
that would lead.
A lawyer friend once gave me
some good advice. He said, “Never lie to a police officer. But there’s no need
to give out more information than what he’s asking for.” I decide to follow his
advice.
“Yes, we were there.”
“Did you notice anything
unusual at the rest area, specifically in the ladies room?” he asks.
I think to myself, what does ‘unusual’
mean exactly? If someone were raised in a high-crime area, violence would be a
daily occurrence and not at all unusual. It all depends on perspective. I
decide the question is too vague, and a vague question deserves a vague answer.
“No, nothing unusual.”
“When you entered the ladies
room, did you see anyone lying on the floor?”
“When I entered the ladies
room, I was the only one in there. I’m certain of that. All the stalls were
open and I didn’t see or hear anyone else in there,” I respond.
“And what about the grounds,
did you see anyone there?”
“There was a young man
standing by a black car. He was smoking a cigarette. I only caught a glimpse of
him; he was minding his own business so I paid him no mind.”
“Was he still there when you
left?”
“The black car was still
there, but he was gone.”
The officer suddenly shines
his flashlight onto my face, studies it for a moment.
“I see you cut your lip. Would
you like to tell me about it?”
Oh shit, he would have to say
that. Now he’s going to want to know how I cut it and then one question will
lead to another. And then there’s the tear in my blouse. If he makes me get out
of the car, he’ll want me to remove my jacket. He’ll see the tear and ask me
how that happened. One thing will lead to another and suddenly we’ll be taken
to the police station for more questioning. And then they would fill out a
police report. If Damon is as well connected as Will believes, he would have
the means to check it out, and it would give him all the personal information
he needs to track us down. I need to defuse this now. I’ve got to play it cool.
“It’s really nothing
officer,” I say. “I just accidently bit my lip.”
The officer moves closer,
shines the flashlight on my mouth.
“Looks bad. Your lip’s all
swollen.”
“It’s not that bad. Hardly
hurts at all.”
He thinks for a moment, then
says, “Don’t go anywhere,” and then strolls to the
seconds.
“Okay, let’s keep it that
way,” he says, and hands Will back the license.
The other cop approaches my
window and then stands right outside the door, repeatedly slapping the
flashlight against his free hand, as if he were holding a night stick. I stare
straight ahead pretending not to notice.
Suddenly I realize I’m still
holding the ice cube and napkin against my swollen lip. As inconspicuously as
possible, I allow my hand to slowly slide down my chest and onto the seat. I then
relax my grip allowing the napkin and ice cube to slip through my fingers and onto
the floor. It would be a big mistake to draw any attention to the cut on my
lip.
The officer shines his
flashlight through the window and onto my face. I continue to stare straight
ahead, avoid looking at him. He taps on the window so I turn to face him. He motions
me to roll down the window so I do what he asks.
“I need to see your license
ma’am.”
“But I wasn’t driving.”
“Doesn’t matter, I need a
positive ID.”
I reach into my purse and
hand him my license. He glances at it and then does the unimaginable.
He places it into his shirt
pocket!
I feel my heart pounding and
my hands begin to shake.
“Is there a problem?” I ask.
“We have reason to believe
you and your friend just came from that rest stop about twenty minutes up the
road.”
Thoughts race through my
mind. If we denied it, and he had an eye witness, he would know we were lying,
and that would give them grounds to bring us in for questioning. But if we
admit it, then that would open us up to more questioning, and who knows where
that would lead.
A lawyer friend once gave me
some good advice. He said, “Never lie to a police officer. But there’s no need
to give out more information than what he’s asking for.” I decide to follow his
advice.
“Yes, we were there.”
“Did you notice anything
unusual at the rest area, specifically in the ladies room?” he asks.
I think to myself, what does ‘unusual’
mean exactly? If someone were raised in a high-crime area, violence would be a
daily occurrence and not at all unusual. It all depends on perspective. I
decide the question is too vague, and a vague question deserves a vague answer.
“No, nothing unusual.”
“When you entered the ladies
room, did you see anyone lying on the floor?”
“When I entered the ladies
room, I was the only one in there. I’m certain of that. All the stalls were
open and I didn’t see or hear anyone else in there,” I respond.
“And what about the grounds,
did you see anyone there?”
“There was a young man
standing by a black car. He was smoking a cigarette. I only caught a glimpse of
him; he was minding his own business so I paid him no mind.”
“Was he still there when you
left?”
“The black car was still
there, but he was gone.”
The officer suddenly shines
his flashlight onto my face, studies it for a moment.
“I see you cut your lip. Would
you like to tell me about it?”
Oh shit, he would have to say
that. Now he’s going to want to know how I cut it and then one question will
lead to another. And then there’s the tear in my blouse. If he makes me get out
of the car, he’ll want me to remove my jacket. He’ll see the tear and ask me
how that happened. One thing will lead to another and suddenly we’ll be taken
to the police station for more questioning. And then they would fill out a
police report. If Damon is as well connected as Will believes, he would have
the means to check it out, and it would give him all the personal information
he needs to track us down. I need to defuse this now. I’ve got to play it cool.
“It’s really nothing
officer,” I say. “I just accidently bit my lip.”
The officer moves closer,
shines the flashlight on my mouth.
“Looks bad. Your lip’s all
swollen.”
“It’s not that bad. Hardly
hurts at all.”
He thinks for a moment, then
says, “Don’t go anywhere,” and then strolls to the
Similar Books
