House Read Free

pavement.
    The patrolman stopped by their window, hand on the butt of his gun. He leaned over and gave them a close-up view of his black lenses. Morton Lawdale, the badge said.
    â€œYou mind showing me your license and registration?”
    â€œWe—”
    â€œLicense and registration. Now.”
    Jack leaned over to the glove box, dug out the papers, and handed them through the window.
    The cop took them with a gloved hand and straightened, scanning them at his leisure. “You mind stepping out of the car?”
    Jack wasn’t sure what to make of the request. “Why?”
    â€œWhy? Because I want to show you something, how’s that for why?”
    â€œDid I do something wrong?”
    â€œAre all you Alabama boys so dense? An officer tells you to step from your vehicle, you argue as if you’re the king of the hill. I have something you need to see. Get your butt out of the car.”
    Jack exchanged a glance with Stephanie, opened the door, and swung his legs out.
    â€œThere, was that so hard?”
    â€œWe took a wrong turn,” Jack said, looking up. He was at least a head shorter than the patrolman. “We were headed to Montgomery on 82.”
    Lawdale pulled out his billy club and waved Jack to the back. “Come ’ere.”
    A chill slipped down Jack’s back. How’d he end up here, out in the middle of nowhere with this character, a trigger-happy, blow-’em-away-and-ask-questions-later kind?
    He hesitated.
    â€œYou gonna make me say everything twice?” The cop slapped his palm with the stick.
    â€œNo.” Jack walked toward the trunk.
    He stopped by the fender, facing the cop who stood with feet spread, staring directly at him. As far as Jack could tell.
    Lawdale swung his black stick down to indicate the left rear brake light. “Were you aware of the fact that your brake light is out?”
    Jack breathed. “It is? No.”
    â€œIt is. I nearly crawled up your backside. I oughta know.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œOh,” the patrolman mimicked. Sweat stained the man’s shirt around his collar and under his arms. “And I’d suggest you start driving your car the way it was designed to be driven.”
    The passenger door opened and Stephanie stepped out, smiling like a ray of sunshine. “Is everything okay?”
    â€œMy taillight’s out,” Jack said.
    Stephanie tilted her head playfully. “We’ll get it fixed in Montgomery. Right, Jack?”
    â€œOf course. As soon as we get there.”
    The patrolman tipped his hat at Steph and evaluated her low-rise jeans and silky blue tank top. “And who might you be?”
    â€œStephanie Singleton.”
    The man’s eyes dropped to her ringless hand. Her taking that off last month had cut Jack more than anything else she’d done. “Siblings? Cousins?”
    â€œHusband and wife,” Jack said.
    The cop looked at Stephanie. “You let this maniac drive?”
    â€œManiac?” Jack asked.
    The cop dipped his head, pulled down his shades, and stared at Jack over the silver frames.
    Blue eyes.
    â€œAre you trying to be smart, boy? No, you’re not, are you? You’re just a bit thick.”
    It occurred to Jack how much rudeness one must stand and take when the other person is wearing a uniform.
    The patrolman removed his sunglasses and gave Jack a stony blue glare. “Not only like a maniac, but a maniac who doesn’t know he’s driving like a maniac, which would make you an idiot. But I’m going to pretend I’m wrong. I’m going to pretend you’re not an idiot and can understand what a maniac does. How would that suit you?”
    Lawdale expected an answer. Jack could think of several but limited himself to “Fine.”
    â€œFine. Then I’ll tell you what a maniac does around here.” The cop tapped Jack on the head with a pointed finger, hard enough to hurt. “A maniac doesn’t