Sheriff Farnell kept his eyes on me as he spoke into the radio handset on his shoulder. A moment later he opened his door and stepped out, maintaining eye contact.
"Sheriff," I said, in way of greeting.
"Hello, there. Can I ask what you're doing with that car, son?"
"It's my car, Sheriff. Don't you remember, you had one of your deputies drive it back here?"
Farnell's eyes narrowed. "Son, I know the owner of that vehicle and you... are not him. I admit there's some resemblance, but Jake Monde is a lot smaller than you."
How had I forgotten about that? Of course he didn't think it was me. I went from an average-sized guy with an average build to a pretty tall guy built like Arnie in his Mr. Olympia days.
"Ah, right. Sheriff, it's a long story. I don't really have the time right now to fill you in. I'm sorry. I've got to get going."
"Young man, you're not going anywhere until I'm satisfied," Farnell said, and then stepped out from behind the cruiser door. His right hand rested gently on the butt of his holstered revolver.
Back on the station I'd become—literally—superhuman. I knew that I could cross the space between us before he could clear his holster. I could disarm him, knock him out, even kill him. Hell, I could let him shoot me, and unless he got me in one of my eyes I'd be fine. One of my Augments was subdermal armor, and it would stop even a high-velocity rifle round.
I dismissed all of those options immediately. Things weren't desperate yet, and there was no way I wanted to hurt a good man just trying to do his job.
"Let me see some ID. Keep your hands in sight, move slowly. Place it on the hood here and step back," Farnell instructed, indicating the hood of the police cruiser in front of him.
I set the brush down on the mostly clean Civic's hood and stepped to my left. With a subtle movement of my right leg I kicked the bag full of guns underneath the front of the car. I didn't dare look down but I was pretty sure I'd gotten it all the way underneath the car.
Keeping my hands in sight I walked slowly toward Farnell as I fished out my wallet, a battered brown leather piece I'd had for nearly a decade. I laid my driver's license on the cruiser's warm hood in front of Farnell and stepped back.
Farnell picked the license up and gave it a quick look, frowning as he read it. He pushed the card into his breast pocket and drew his revolver. The gun was bright chrome, a serious, chunky-looking piece with a large, black muzzle at the end of a four-inch barrel. I had no idea what caliber it was, but the idea of getting shot with it wasn't appealing, subdermal armor or not.
"Turn around and place your hands behind your head. I am taking you into custody until I can work out what's going on here."
"Sheriff, come on. It's me, Jake. We sat in your car and talked, a couple of weeks back. You gave me a ride home."
"You expect me to believe you grew a foot and put on sixty pounds of muscle in two weeks? Pull the other one, son. Turn around."
I sighed, turning around and gripping the back of my head with my hands. The bag with the guns in it was at the front of the car, mostly buried under snow. I didn't think he would notice it. Grandpa's house had no neighbors, so with luck I could leave it here a short while and everything would be fine.
There was a jingle of metal behind me and I felt cold metal close around my left wrist. Farnell moved my hands behind my back and cuffed me efficiently.
"Is there anyone else in the house? Do you know where Jake is?" Farnell asked.
"I told you, Sheriff. I'm Jake," I replied.
The sheriff frisked me, taking my Link with the keys dangling off it, my wallet, and my dead phone. That was all I had on me.
He steered me toward his cruiser. I didn't resist, as I was fairly certain I could break the cuffs without much effort if I needed to. He opened the rear passenger door and pushed my head down as he deposited me in the back. The door clunked closed and I was left watching him return to the house through the steel mesh separating the front and back seats.
The front door was unlocked and he disappeared inside. He was gone for a few minutes. I could only hope he wouldn't look through the bags I'd dropped on the basement floor. It'd be hard to explain nearly one hundred pounds of gold in unmarked bars.
The inside of the police car was warm, and smelled vaguely of old coffee and the faint whiff of bleach. The radio crackled as the few other members of the tiny Paradise Plains sheriff's department talked to each other, their voices barely understandable through the low-quality speakers.
When he returned, Farnell closed the front door of the house firmly behind him and stepped carefully through the knee-deep snow. I was relieved to see that he had completely failed to notice the bag buried under snow at the front of my Civic. Maybe it'll be okay there for a while.
"At the station we'll run your prints. If you want to tell me who you are and where Jake Monde is before that comes back, things might go easier for you."
I honestly wasn't a hundred percent sure that my fingerprints
