With no cars ahead of her, she dared to glance briefly away from the road, resetting her GPS to identify "Nearby Restaurants" when she heard the screeching siren, looked in her rearview mirror and groaned at the unmarked car behind her. Hoping she'd made a false assumption, she maintained her speed. Aiden, and her "feed me now" bellyache, had been her focus and not the sharp turns that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. She braked, zigzagging to the left then falling into a deep-right curve, ignoring the cop for the time being, enjoying the feel of her Lex hugging the road.
As though reading her mind, the wailing siren and the flashing, blue lights confirmed her fear. She accepted the inevitable, decreased her speed pulling off the highway, and braked. After putting the gearshift in park, she searched her purse for her wallet anticipating the cop's request for her license. Looking like a soldier heading to battle, the gray-and-blue uniformed officer rested his right hand on his holstered gun. She watched his militaristic approach, lowered her window and thrust her license out the window looking straight ahead, thwarting her impulse to shout, Cut the theatrics, why don't ya?
The policeman took her license and asked for her insurance card that she'd finally found buried in the bottom of the center console.
"Sit tight. I'll be right back, ma'am. Moving pretty fast there, weren't ya?"
Before she could fathom a response that wouldn't get her arrested, the officer walked off. She dug deeper into her purse for the magenta-colored magic pillbox. One should work. For now. No liquid necessary.
She swore. The last thing she needed was a speeding ticket. Marks on her license. She had enough problems on her plate. Lesson one. Slow it down, speed demon. You're no longer in New York. She easily swallowed the Xanax and pounded her fist on the steering wheel.
Her stomach reminded her of its priority that hadn't provided for a fifteen-minute wait for a cop to call in her information to Big Brother's network.
Her sigh was louder than the stomach growls that intensified. The hunger pangs signified well-being for her. Shelly's Rated R version of hunger games would blow your mind. And was limited to liquid nourishment. Images of exotic tequila shots temporarily blurred her vision.
She watched the officer approach, this time with a swagger that was neither necessary nor impressive. Country cop, give it up already, okay? You've been watching too many police shows.
Her open window acknowledged her awareness of his presence.
"Mrs. Stavins, right?"
"Yeah, until I get a chance to rectify that."
"Sorry, ma'am. What was that?"
"Nothing. May I ask why you pulled me over? Sir." She figured she might as well go through the motions and ask the expected questions. Shelly continued to stare ahead as though the big leaf magnolia tree on the side of the road had asked the question.
"Ma'am, I clocked you at sixty-five on a fifty mile an hour stretch. Much too fast, don't you think?"
Shelly spoke to the blooming white petals in the center of the leaf that demanded her undivided attention. "Can you just give me my ticket, so I can get where I'm going?—Please."
"Afraid not."
"What?"
"Ma'am, did you ever own a 2013 Mercedes CLA?"
"Huh?"
This time the officer's question was more important than the silent call of her stomach that had again successfully competed for her attention. The thought of a speeding ticket and possible marks on her license prompted the head turn. This time she stared up into a pair of dark brown, long-lashed eyes.
The officer raised his voice a notch. "I said have you ever...?"
"Yes," she shouted, "May I ask why?" Shelly decided it just might be in her best interest to be nice, lowered her voice and added, "Please."
She'd faked it many times before, so it wouldn't be as much of a challenge as it had been at one time. Faking it had become a way of life. And even that had not worked. Not as far as her marriage was concerned. She had sold her Mercedes less than a month ago. Thoughtful ex-husband, Chadwick Stavins, Esq., signed over the ownership papers. She'd used her profit from the sale to make the down payment on the Lex. She figured why not have the car of your dreams when your world has collapsed, or perhaps even worse, may have never existed.
"There's a bench warrant out for your arrest."
"Excuse me?"
"Yes, you have more than three thousand dollars in unpaid tickets. I need you to report to the Chandlerville Police Station. It's on the Town Square right off Main Street—less than five miles down the road. Here are the directions." She accepted the cobalt-blue-and-silver embossed card but before she could read it, the officer added. " I'll follow you to the station."
"But..."
"Sorry ma'am. See you at the station."
*****
Shelly eased down the side of the road with her left blinker announcing her intent to pull onto the highway. Approaching cars were quickly easing into the far left lane. The officer's flashing lights had cleared the way for her path to jail as she envisioned it. Although she knew that her records must be confused with someone else's—most likely the new owner of her old car, her feelings were not relieved by the thought.
She'd never been arrested.
At least not that her records would show.
Never been to jail.
At least not an overnighter—that her records would show.
Never even been in a police station—not that her records would show.
And most importantly had never received any ticket violations. Despite knowing that the facts, i.e., the record or lack thereof would attest to her law-abiding past, spending her first day in the slammer in her new town of residence was an omen. She was ready to pack up and move on. Current reality made the option not only unacceptable but very much undoable.
She yelled at Google. "Call Bethany."
"Hey! You made it to Chandlerville already?"
"Are you for real? I only wish. You're not going to believe this because I don't."
"What's wrong. Are you all right?"
"No, I'm not! Why the hell do you think I'm calling you?"
"Gosh Shelly, you don't have to yell. And I thought you gave up cursing. What's the matter?"
"You'd be yelling too if you had a "know-it-all, don't ask any questions" cop tailing you to the police station."
"What? What's going on?"
Shelly sighed and slowed her pace, both her speech and speed--the cop double-flashed his headlights. She defiantly gunned her engine.
"Sorry. I don't know. I got pulled over for speeding. Right outside of Chandlerville. And I admit I probably was. Not probably. I was. My mind was certainly not on driving. Anyway, when this jerk of a cop called in my license and registration, he told me to follow him down to the station. Sounds like there's an outstanding bench warrant on me."
"Are you kidding me?"
"Can you think of something better to say? You're enough to make anyone want to curse. Why would I kid you? I'm almost at the station. This cop is tailing me like he's my shadow or something. By the way, should I disappear, never to be seen again—"
"Oh stop it, Shelly. You're not going to disappear. Gosh. I'm gonna call Larry. His best friend has a lawyer buddy in Chandlerville. You tell those creeps they've got the wrong person and that you want to call your lawyer. Immediately. Don't let them—"
"I don't need a lawyer. I haven't done anything. I think it's probably some kind of technical glitch. My old car and the new owners. What else could it be?"
"I'm calling Larry. Check your phone as soon as you get to the police station. I'm serious. Look for my text. OMG," Bethany mumbled, "I can't believe this."
Not able to tolerate anymore of her sister's drama, Shelly hit the red icon and braked for the upcoming exit off the highway. Suzy GPS chanted, "In four hundred and fifty feet, turn left onto Main Street." The ominous shadow signaled his intent to turn left as well. It would take more than a Welcome to Chandlerville road sign to calm her overactive nerves.
&n
bsp; __________
Shelly's Revenge is the name of the Game!
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Missing the Stars: Chandler County Page 22