“Ma’am, do you know why I stopped you?” He even had a sexy, smooth voice. I wanted to smack my head on the steering wheel.
“I was probably speeding, Officer.” Why lie?
“Yes. Can I see your driver’s license and registration?”
I was pretty sure that was just a formality. He had probably pulled all my information while he was sitting in his car. I handed him the license and registration and waited.
“Isis Black? Didn’t you just call 9-1-1 for an abduction?”
My mouth just dropped, and I nodded.
“I went to Abuelita’s, but you were already gone. Abuelita gave me her statement. What do you think you’re doing?” The officer was giving me a lecture. I wasn’t sure whether he was also giving me a patronizing look or one of condolence.
“I didn’t think anyone would come. I just couldn’t stay there doing nothing.” I didn’t look at his eyes when I spoke. I felt ridiculous admitting that.
“Do you find anything?” He was still holding my information.
“Besides that Texarkana is deceptively large, not really.” Unfortunately, on top of talking really fast when I got nervous, I also became a smart-ass. Not the best idea when you were faced with police officers or doctors. He didn’t look amused.
“No kidding. Would you care to give a statement now, or are you just planning to drive all over Texarkana?” I wasn’t sure whether he was being helpful or was just annoyed by me.
I took a deep breath and related my story to Officer Hottie. My godmother always said that my downfall would be men in uniform. I was not going to tell her she was right, but he was hot. He asked a few pertinent questions at all the right places.
“Do you remember what type of vehicle they were driving?” He had been taking notes the whole time.
“One of those Dodge sixteen-passenger vans. The old model with the bench seats in the back. The windows were tinted to match the black paint job. It was hard to miss. Nobody drives those things anymore besides construction crews.” In Texas, where everyone had a truck, vans were rare. Most families had SUVs nowadays.
“OK, I’ll pass this information to the other officers.” He sounded genuine, but I wasn’t sure.
“Why? Do people really care if one more homeless person disappears in Texarkana?”
“I don’t know about people, but I do.” I met his eyes, and they were unnerving. He had an intensity that I couldn’t explain.
“I’m sorry.” I actually meant the apology. I wasn’t a total ass, and I didn’t want to be rude just because I was pissed.
“Don’t be. You’re upset about your friend. But you’re not going to find him speeding to town being a menace to the other drivers. Go home and let us do our job.”
OK, Officer Hottie was not that much older than me—maybe four or six years. Why was he talking to me as if I were five? I wanted to argue just to have the last word, but I didn’t know what to say.
“Are you going to let me know?” I was working hard to sound as innocent as possible.
He shook his head and smiled. God was definitely not fair—the boy had dimples. How was that possible?
“Yes, I will. Give me a number where I can call you, and I’ll keep you informed.”
I was speechless. I didn’t want to lose my chance, so I found a scrap piece of paper in my glove compartment and wrote my cell phone number. I handed the paper to Officer Hottie, and he handed me back my license and registration.
“As soon as I find something, I’ll personally let you know. Now please head home at a reasonable speed. Leave the police work to the professionals.” He was trying his best to look trustworthy and not intimidating.
“You’re not going to give me a ticket?” I was pretty sure I was missing something, as if he knew something I didn’t.
“Do you want one?”
“Not particularly. Thank you, Officer…” I left my sentence hanging because I couldn’t read his name tag.
“Smith. That’s my last name.”
I had a few Matrix comments to go along with his name. I decided against it—if I was planning to leave without a ticket. I couldn’t afford a ticket with my paycheck.
“Thank you, Officer Smith. Please call me if you find out anything.”
He nodded and went back toward his car. I’d had very few encounters with cops, but I was sure this one was not normal.
“Head home, Ms. Black, and please stop drag racing on my streets.” He was saying that over his shoulder. I was sort of listening, more focused on his nice ass. He was even fine from behind. I wished I had been drag racing. That would translate to being close to finding someone. Right now, all I had done was get a warning.
I was completely lost and defeated. I turned around and headed back toward home on Texas Boulevard and then turned left on New Boston Road. I was heading east on New Boston Road, or 82. Not sure why some streets in Texarkana had multiple names. At the intersection of Summerhill and New Boston Road, instead of turning right to head home, I kept going straight. I had no idea why, but I couldn’t give up so soon. I drove less than a mile and turned right at Beverly Park.
Beverly Park wasn’t much to look at. Right next to Big Jake’s BBQ, the so-called park was just a couple of picnic tables with benches
