Neal hesitated. “I lost control of my car.”
“No kidding.” Keeping a safe distance from Neal, the officer peered into the car with a flashlight. “Is that your child?”
“Yes,” Neal said.
“Don’t you know children are supposed to be strapped into the back seat?”
“Oh.” Neal vaguely remembered this rule. Annie always strapped Natasha in the back seat when the three of them went out, but Neal thought that was only because Annie sat in the passenger seat. “I guess I forgot.”
The cop shook his head and shined the flashlight on Natasha again. Working up his nerve, Neal looked inside the car, too. But all he saw was a normal-looking five month old baby girl, drooling and fidgeting in her car seat.
The cop pointed the flashlight in Neal’s face. “You had anything to drink tonight?”
“No.” Neal made a conscious effort to stand up straight on his throbbing foot. “I’m on my way home from the hospital.”
The cop shined the light on Neal’s shoeless foot.
“Not for that.” Neal hoped to invoke the policeman’s sympathy. “My wife was in a car accident tonight. She’s in intensive care.”
The cop remained stone-faced. He motioned to Neal’s car. “You’re lucky you aren’t in intensive care yourself, mister.” He paused, looking at Neal more closely. “How exactly did you lose control of your vehicle?”
“My daughter...she scared the hell out of me.”
The cop shined his light back into the car, at Natasha. She turned her head towards the light. “Gaaaaaa,” she said, kicking her feet a few times.
“Yeah, she’s really scary,” the cop said. “I can see why you nearly caused a ten-car pileup.”
“I didn’t mean...” Neal ran his trembling hand through his drizzle-soaked hair. “What I meant was, she screamed and I thought something was wrong with her. When I looked over to see if she was all right, I drifted into the other lane, then I over-corrected, and...” Neal shrugged. “I’m sorry. I’m pretty upset about my wife.”
“Upset is no excuse. You need to be more careful. If you’re that upset, you shouldn’t be driving in the first place.”
“I know.”
“And you need to strap your daughter into the back seat, according to the law.”
“Yes sir.”
The cop opened his mouth as if to continue his lecture, but apparently changed his mind. “May I see your driver’s license, please?”
“Sure,” Neal said, pulling out his wallet. He handed the license to the policeman and then glanced at all the cars that were slowly rolling by, and at the people in them who were gawking at him.
The cop shined his light on Neal’s license and studied it. “Mr. Becker, how about moving your care over to the shoulder of the road, so it’s not blocking traffic. And strap your daughter into the back seat, where she belongs.”
“Okay.” Neal hesitated briefly, not wanting to get back into the car with Natasha. The cop did not take his eyes off Neal—his square-jawed face showed a kind of suspicious curiosity.
Neal reluctantly climbed back inside his car, started the engine, and moved it over the shoulder of the road, aligning it with the traffic. He was aware of Natasha’s steady breathing, but he would not allow himself even to look in her direction. Avoiding her eyes, he picked up her car seat and moved it into the back, his hands shaking so violently the buckle chattered a little bit as he secured her. He wasn’t sure if it was a curse or a blessing to have her in the back seat—he wouldn’t have to look at her face, but God knows what she might do behind his back.
