Flashing Lights in the Driveway

Down at the street, an engine note changed pitch. Tires rolled over the neighborhood entrance speed bump. Blue flashes moved across the trim of the houses.

Raymond’s hand settled on the Mustang’s fender, steady as a brake check.

He watched the driveway entrance, waiting for the cruisers to come into view.

The twin cruisers cut their lightbars as tires crunched against gravel at the curb. Both patrol cars idled side by side, their radios murmuring into the afternoon heat.

Denise stepped off the concrete apron to meet them, waving both arms like a flight director.

“Over here, officers,” she called out, pointing toward Raymond’s garage. “He is withholding private property and refusing to vacate the vehicle.”

Cole retreated two steps, his boots scraping the dust near the rear quarter panel. The brass keys jingled once in his fist before disappearing into his jeans pocket.

Sergeant Alicia Monroe stepped from the lead sedan. She adjusted her heavy duty belt, settled her campaign cover straight on her brow, and shut the door with a sharp latch click. A junior deputy followed on her heels, his aluminum clipboard tucked beneath one arm.

Denise hurried forward, holding out her palms in grievance.

“I have the contract right here,” Denise said, turning back toward Raymond. “He pocketed my legal copy.”

Sergeant Monroe did not glance at Denise. Her eyes locked on Raymond, who stood silent beside the blue fastback, wiping carbon from his thumb with an oily rag.

Monroe stopped four paces away, brought her boots together, and raised her right hand flat against the brim of her hat in a formal salute.

“Afternoon, Chief Ellis,” Monroe said.

The deputy beside her mirrored the motion at once.

Denise froze. Her hands hovered at her waist, fingers hooked like empty claws.

“Chief?” Denise asked. The word came out thin. “He is just an old mechanic.”

“Chief of Police in Fairmont, ma’am,” Monroe said, lowering her hand. She did not raise her voice. “Thirty-five years of service.”

Raymond gave a short nod, slipping the rag into his back pocket.

“Sergeant Monroe,” Raymond said. “Good to see you.”