As you may realize by now, the police keep a constant watch on Lisa when she is driving. I have been her passenger too numerous times to count when an officer has pulled her over. She moves fast, but they’re on to her.
This time we’re on Arizona Highway 87 going north, just outside Winslow. We are on our way by a circuitous route to the Grand Canyon, it is 4:38 in the afternoon and we are only a few hours out of the airport.
I see the red lights flash on Lisa’s face, the reflection of the patrol car lights in the rear view mirror. She pulls over. The cop car pulls over. We wait.
The uniform approaches on my side of the vehicle, likely with the desire not to be taken out by a passing truck. Crisp uniform, no hat, the wind blowing through his short blond hair.