Levi Cooper, chief of police of the entire Manningsport
Police Department, all two and a half of them, tried to
give people a break. He did. Even the tourists with the
lead feet, Red Sox stickers on their bumpers and complete
disregard for speed limits. He parked the cruiser in plain
sight, the radar gun clearly visible—Hi there,
welcome to Manningsport, you're going way too fast and here
I am, about to pull you over, so slow down, pal. The town
depended on visitors, and September was prime tourism
season; the leaves were starting to turn, buses had been
rolling in and out of town all week, and every vineyard in
the area had some special event going on.
But the law was the law.
Plus, he'd just let Colleen O'Rourke off with a stern
lecture and a warning while she tried to look remorseful.
So another speeder just wasn't going to be tolerated
today. This one, for example. Seventeen miles an hour over
the limit, more than enough. Also, an
out–of–towner; he could see the rental plates
from here. The car was a painfully bright yellow Honda
Civic, currently clocking in at forty–two miles per
hour in a twenty–five mile–an–hour zone.
What if Carol Robinson and her merry band of geriatric
power–walkers were out? What if the Nebbins kid was
riding his bike? There hadn't been a fatal crash in
Manningsport since he'd been chief, and Levi planned on
keeping it that way.
The yellow car sailed past him, not even a tap on the
brakes. The driver wore a baseball cap and big sunglasses.
Female. With a sigh, Levi put on the lights, gave the siren
a blip and pulled onto the road. She didn't seem to notice.
He hit the siren again, and the driver seemed to realize
that yes, he was talking to her, and pulled over.
Grabbing his ticket pad, Levi got out of the cruiser.
Wrote down the license plate number, then went over to the
driver's side, where the window was lowering. "Welcome to
Manningsport," he said, not smiling.
Shit.
It was Faith Holland. A giant Golden Retriever shoved
its head out of the window and barked once, wagging happily.
"Levi," she said, as if they'd seen each other last week
at O'Rourke's.
"Holland. You visiting?"
"Wow. That's amazing. How did you guess?"
He looked at her, not amused, and let a few beats pass.
It worked; her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. "So.
Forty–two in a twenty–five
mile–an–hour zone," he said.
"I thought it was thirty–five," she said.
"We dropped it last year."
The dog whined, so Levi petted him, making the dog try
to crawl over Faith's head.
"Blue, get back," Faith ordered.
Blue. Right. Same dog as from a few years ago.
"Levi, how about a warning? I have a, um, a family
emergency, so if you could drop the cop act, that'd be
super." She gave him a tight smile, almost meeting his
eyes, and pushed her hair behind one ear.
"What's the emergency?" he said.
"My grandfather is...uh...he's not feeling well. Goggy's
concerned."
"Should you lie about stuff like that?" he asked. Levi
was well acquainted with the elder Hollands, as they made
up about ten percent of his work week. And if Mr. Holland
really was under the weather, he'd bet Mrs. Holland would
be picking out his funeral clothes and planning a cruise.
Faith sighed. "Look, Levi. I just took the red–eye
from San Francisco. Can you give me a break? Sorry I was
going too fast." She tapped her fingers on the steering
wheel. "I'll take a warning. Can I go now?"
"License and registration, please."
She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Still got that
branch up your ass, I see."
"License and registration, and please exit the vehicle."
She mumbled something under her breath, then groped
around in the glove compartment, her shirt coming out of
her jeans to reveal a patch of creamy flesh. Looked like
the fitness revolution had passed her by; then again, she'd
always been a little lush ripe chunky, ever since he could
remember. The dog took the opportunity to shove his head
out again, so Levi scratched him behind the ear.
Faith slammed the glove box shut, shoved some papers in
Levi's hand, got out of the car, nearly hitting him with
the door. "Stay put, Blue." She didn't look at Levi.
He glanced at her license, then at her.
"Yes, it's a bad picture," she snapped. "Want a tissue
sample?"
"I don't think that'll be necessary. This has expired,
though. Another fine."
Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms under her
chest. Still had that amazing rack.
"How was Afghanistan?" she asked, looking over his
shoulder.
"Really great. I'm thinking of getting a summer place
there."
"You know what I wonder, Levi? Why are some people
always such hemorrhoids? You ever wonder that?"
"I do. Are you aware that antagonizing an officer of the
law is a felony?"
"Really. How fascinating. Can you get it in gear,
please? I want to see my family."
He signed the paper and handed it to her. She wadded it
up and tossed it in the car. "Am I free to go, Officer?"
"It's Chief now," he said.
"See someone about that branch." She got into the car
and drove off. Not too fast, though not slowly, either.