“What the…?” The question dies on my lips as I swerve to avoid oncoming headlights.
When the danger passes, I glance down to find myself clad in a gold lamé dress that barely covers the top of my thigh. Only one scantily clad leg remains visible as a heavy bag drapes across the rest of my lap. I peek into it and gasp as I realize bound piles of hundred dollar bills fill it to overflowing.
“Where did this money come from? Where am I?” I peer out the window, trying to get a fix on my location.
As I take a peek out the back window, blue and red lights erupt across the top of a police cruiser. A siren blares, demanding that I pull over immediately. My hands tighten on the wheel. With questions whirring in my head, I realize the officer will have the same ones.
I take a deep breath and push the gas pedal to the floor. My knuckles whiten as I maneuver around the familiar road, hoping no one comes at me in my lane. My hope holds, but the car doesn’t. I realize the needle hovers on empty as it begins to shudder and shimmy. I pull over to the side of the road, sighing with acceptance as it coughs to a standstill.
I roll down the window and place both hands on the wheel as I anxiously watch the officer step tentatively from his car. He pauses with the car between his body and me to observe me for moments that stretch into eternity. Finally, he steps around the door with his gun drawn.
As he draws closer, he calls out, “If you have any weapons, throw them out the window now.”
I glance around the unfamiliar car, relieved to see no sign of weapons. “I’m not armed.” I pause as he steps closer before adding. “And I have no idea what is going on?”
“You didn’t realize you were speeding—away from a patrol car with its lights on?” Incredulity drips from every word.
“Honestly, I think I overreacted to the situation I found myself in.”
He snorts derisively, “Get out of the car, ma’am.”
As I slowly obey, I realize more than just my thighs are on display. He notices, too but quickly focuses his eyes on my face after a brief glance at my attire. As dark eyes bore into my soul, his stern expression softens a fraction. He lowers the gun and snaps it into the holster on his belt.
“So how about you tell me what situation you found yourself in?”
I stare at him silently as the Miranda rights echo through my head. “I wish I could?”
As if he can read my mind, he asks, “Do you wish to invoke your right to counsel?”
“I don’t know.” I shiver as a breeze blows through what little clothing I have.
He sighs heavily and steps toward me. “For your own safety, I think we need to take you down to the police station. The Chief will have some questions for you.”
My eyes widen with surprise as he taps his chin and contemplates the beat-up sedan. “Do you know how to get there?”
I nod quietly.
“Then drive the speed limit and lead me there,” he waves his hand.
“I would, but I ran out of gas.”
He eyes me for a moment and then turns back toward his car, “I have a can in my trunk. Stay here.”
I nod and lean against the car, watching him go about the process of filling my tank before turning to me, “Lead me to the station now.”
I nod.
Still stunned, my body slogs through molasses to follow his order. Back behind the wheel of the car, my mind races with every rule I ever memorized before my driver’s test. My eyes stray from the road to my rearview mirror with unnecessary frequency as I seek out his reflection there and try to gage his reaction to my every choice. When I finally pull into a space in the police lot, I turn the engine off with a sigh of relief. I slump forward over the steering wheel, breathing deeply. I pry myself off of my temporary pedestal when the officer raps on the window.
“Ma’am, you need to get out of the car.”
I step out slowly. He takes my elbow more tightly than I would like, but I remember that handcuffs are an option and let him guide me through the front doors. He nods to the desk sergeant.
“Tell the chief we have another one and see if we have something more…” he pauses and grimaces in the direction of my sparkling sheath, “reserved for this woman to wear.”
“My name is Bella,” I inform him.
A nod is the only acknowledgement he offers as he guides me down a narrow hallway to a room with a sturdy windowless door. He loosens his grip on my elbow as he turns the handle. He peers up and down the empty hallway before pushing me inside and following. As the door closes behind us, he gestures for me to sit down and looks toward the two way mirror speculatively.
“Have a seat, Bella.”
I sit and look up at him expectantly. He shakes his head and we wait in awkward silence for something to happen. A firm rap reveals the door to be metal. The officer opens it stiffly, relaxing only when he sees who stands on the other side.
“Stand down, Officer Millet, no one is observing us.” Deep wrinkles form around his mouth and eyes as the grey-haired man extends a bundle of fabric toward me. “Slip this on over what you’re wearing, ma’am, and we’ll see about getting you home and into your own clothes.”
I nod numbly and pull on the baggy sweatpants and oversized t-shirt that make up the package and feature the name of the police station in bold silver letters. As I retake my seat, they both perch on the table in front of me, looking down with reassuring smiles as they begin the oddest inquisition ever witnessed outside of a buddy cop comedy.
I don’t think my answers give them any clues about whatever they are investigating, but I gather some interesting albeit confusing intel. They ask me where I was before Officer Millet noticed me. They don’t question my attire or the bag of money. In fact, they seem to know the exact amount even though no one could have counted it that fast. As the questions taper off, Officer Millet crouches down in front of me.
“We’ll need you to go to hospital and get some bloodwork done, but I think we know what happened here,” he offers kindly.
“But we’ll need the keys to that vehicle, so Officer Millet will give you a ride to the hospital."
I hand him the keys to the car, relieved to no longer have responsibility for its secrets. Officer Millet takes my elbow more gently this time and guides me to his squad car. This time, he lets me sit up front. After a few minutes of silence, I decide to broach a subject that keeps bouncing through my brain.
“You seem to know more about what I was doing in that car that I do,” I say after loudly clearing my throat.
“We do.”
“Want to fill me in?”
“The chief will once we get your bloodwork back.”
I stare at him. His eye twitch but he keeps his focus on the road as he adds “Don’t worry. You should be fine. We just have to confirm our theory before we can completely clear you.”
As he pulls into my driveway, he offers me a reassuring pat on the hand. “Would you like me to come inside with you?”
I glance at the door. Nothing looks amiss, but recent occurrences lead me to accept his offer with a nod of the head. He comes around to help me out of the car and walks with me in silence. At the door, he holds out his hand. I look at him questioningly.
“The key?”
My eyes widen. “I don’t have the key. I only had the key to that car.”
“I wonder,” he reaches out to touch the handle.
It turns easily under his hand. He motions for me to stand back as he steps off to the side of the door and pushes it inward. No noises or movement come from within the house. He still moves with practiced caution, entering the house swiftly as he pulls a flashlight from his belt and uses it to illuminate each room. By the time he finally returns to me, I have claimed a seat on the top step. Luckily, my neighbors tend to go to sleep early, so no one witnesses our bizarre reunion.
He approaches me with my keys dangling from one hand. The other now holds nothing as his gun now rests safely on his hip once more.
“It’s safe to go in. Need me to stay out here and watch?”
“You will anyway, won’t you?”
“Yeah. In case my theory isn’t completely correct.”
I nod and step into my house, closing the door and hoping this whole nightmare will be gone in the morning.
~~~
Will the nightmare be gone? Should I explore this one further?
