“Thank God.”
A short siren sounded behind them.
“I didn’t say that was necessarily a good thing. Remember, I don’t have my license with me.” Kevin began to slow down.
“Were you speeding?”
“I don’t know. I did speed up to pass a semi a few miles back.”
“They won’t take us in just because you don’t have your license with you.”
It sounded as if Erica was trying to reassure herself, but Kevin was thinking the same thing. If they were forced to go down to the station with the officer, it would be possible for their pursuers to learn their location.
The Honda rolled to a stop along the freeway shoulder. They waited for the officer to approach the car, but no one got out. A minute later, a second patrol car came to a stop behind the first. A female trooper wearing the standard wide-brimmed hat climbed out of the second patrol car and walked up to the first, leaning into the driver’s window. Several times she looked in the direction of the Honda.
“What the hell is going on?” Kevin said, puzzled.
Erica shrugged and shook her head.
The door of the first patrol car opened, and a male officer got out, placing his baton through a belt loop. Kevin unrolled the window as both police officers walked towards him.
Both officers wore dark aviator sunglasses, giving them a menacing appearance. The male officer’s expression seemed to be practiced indifference, but Kevin noticed the officer’s right hand was not far from his pistol. He leaned forward to look into the car. When he spoke, a monotone issued from smoke-stained teeth.
“Sir, may I see your driver’s license? And ma’am, I’d like to see some identification from you as well.”
The female officer stood on the passenger side of the Honda.
“I’m sorry, officer,” Kevin said as he handed her Erica’s license, “I don’t have my license with me.” There was no reason to tell him why he didn’t have it. He sure as hell wasn’t going to give him the license with Ward’s name on it, which was still in Kevin’s pocket.
The officer took Erica’s license. “Then may I see some other form of identification?”
He shook his head, embarrassed. “I don’t have my wallet.”
The officer looked up at the other officer and then back at Kevin. His expression never wavered. “What’s your name, sir?”
“Kevin Hamilton.”
“Mr. Hamilton, Miss Jensen, could you please step out of the vehicle?”
Kevin got out thinking that he and Erica would follow them back to one of the patrol cars, but what the officer said next shocked him.
“Now face the vehicle and put your hands on the hood.”
“Are you serious?” Erica’s eyes widened.
“On the hood, sir. You too, miss.” His voice continued in the polite monotone, but Kevin saw the serious look on his face. His hand was now hovering over the pistol.
Kevin did as he was told and faced Erica, who was leaning on the other side of the car’s hood. The officer patted his back and chest and then ran his hands up and down his legs. He tried not to squirm at the uncomfortable personal nature of the search, focusing on Erica’s face. He knew that her shocked expression must have mirrored his own.
The officer reached into Kevin’s pocket and pulled out the driver’s license with Ward’s name on it.
“What’s this?” the officer said. “This says your name is Michael Ward.”
“I can explain that,” Kevin said.
“I’m sure you can.”
Kevin heard a click from behind and felt the cool metal of handcuffs encircle his wrists.
“What the hell is this is all about?” Kevin said as his hands were shackled.
“Mr. Ward, I stopped you for exceeding the speed limit…”
“I’ve been stopped for speeding before and I’ve never been searched! And my name is Hamilton, not Ward.”
Erica made a face for him to be quiet.
“You are under arrest for grand theft auto,” the officer continued calmly. “This vehicle has been reported stolen.”
“What?” Kevin said. “That’s impossible!”
“Officer,” Erica said, “it can’t be stolen. This is my car.”
“It was also reported that one of the occupants may be impersonating the owner of the car. The only identification Mr. Hamilton”-the officer sarcastically drawled the name-”has been able to produce is one for someone named Michael Ward. I’d say that’s sufficient evidence to make you suspects. You have the right to remain silent…”
Kevin listened to the litany of rights he had so often heard on hundreds of TV shows, almost unable to comprehend that they were now applying to him. He didn’t respond when the officer seemed to be asking him a question.
“What?” he said.
“I said, do you understand these rights?”
They both answered yes.
“This is ridiculous,” Kevin said. “How can we be under arrest for stealing her car? It’s her car!”
“Sir, please calm down.”
“How can I be calm? I’m under arrest!”
“Officer,” Erica said, “there’s obviously some sort of mistake. All of my identification is in my purse. If you’ll just check it, you’ll see…”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll take your purse with us, but this isn’t something we’ll be able to investigate here.”
Kevin remembered the backpack with the notebook and videotape.
“I need my backpack too,” he said. “I can’t leave it in the car.”
“What’s in it?” the officer asked.
“Some very important papers of mine and a videotape. It’ll be ruined if it stays out in this heat.”
The officer looked at Kevin for a few seconds. Kevin was about to say something else when the officer opened the Honda and retrieved the purse and the backpack.
“Where are we going?” Erica said.
“The local state police headquarters.”
“What about my car?”
“I’ll call for a tow truck and have the vehicle taken to the impound lot,” the female officer said. Kevin noticed that she didn’t say “your vehicle.”
Thirty minutes later they entered the state police barracks at Hutchins, Texas.
After three hours of bureaucratic forms, backtalk, and fact checking, the state police were finally convinced that Erica Jensen was, in fact, who she said she was. Relieved about the error being resolved, she gladly took back her belongings from Officer Brady, the patrolman who had stopped them. She looked at her watch. It was already 5:20. They had less than an hour before the warehouse closed.
“I’m sorry about the misunderstanding, Miss Jensen,” Brady said. “You can be sure that we will be looking into this matter to make sure this kind of thing doesn’t happen again.”
“Does this mean we’re free to go?”
“You are, Miss Jensen. But I checked the identification with Michael Ward’s name on it.” He jerked a thumb at Kevin, who was sitting at the desk of Officer Anson, the patrolwoman assisting Brady. “There is someone with that name and social security number, but the license number is for someone named Maria Gonzalez. Therefore, it’s a fake, not stolen. He claims he had it made as a joke. I’d be willing to let it go at that, but I still don’t have any identification for him.”
Erica sighed with relief when she realized they hadn’t made a connection to Ward’s death. “He was only speeding. That shouldn’t be a big deal.”
