“We can hope.” Joe went in pursuit of the black Mercedes sedan. Instead of taking the next off-ramp, the driver pulled over and stopped right on the bridge.
“Fuck. This is going to slow traffic to a crawl.”
“Can I approach the driver?” Luca asked.
Joe opened his door. “Be my guest.”
Luca, noting only one person in the vehicle, knocked on the passenger-side window, and she rolled it down. Yep, he smelled alcohol. And this woman looked almost clown-like with the amount of heavy makeup she was wearing. “License and registration, please.”
The woman heaved a vodka-laced sigh, dug through her purse, and produced a wallet. She removed and handed over a current Massachusetts driver’s license. Then she opened the glove compartment, found her registration, and handed that to him also.
He scanned the information and said, “Do you know why we stopped you, Priscilla?”
“I have no idea.”
“You’ve been driving erratically. Have you been drinking?”
“I am not drunk.”
“Step out of the car, please.”
The woman sat right where she was and folded her arms.
“You can prove you’re sober with a field sobriety test, ma’am. Please step out of the car.”
“I don’t have to. I don’t have to take a Breathalyzer, and I don’t have to walk a straight line. I know my rights.”
“I’m sure you do, ma’am, but we’ll have to take you in to the station if we suspect you’re drunk. I smell alcohol, and you’ve been speeding and weaving all over the road, so you’re giving me no other choice. The public’s safety is at stake.”
“You’ll have to drag me out of this car.”
“Ma’am, at this point, you’re forcing me to place you under arrest. If you don’t exit the car, you’ll be adding a charge of resisting arrest. Is that really what you want to do?”
She blew out another deep, vodka-heavy breath. The door flew open, and Luca met her in front of the vehicle while Joe ran the plate.
Luca was almost six feet tall. This woman had to be six two without the stilettos. That made her about six and a half feet…and wobbling.
“Turn around and put your hands on the car, please.”
The woman placed her hands on her hips and looked at him defiantly.
Luca raised his voice. “Turn around and place your hands on the hood of your car. Now.”
“Why? Are you going to pat me down?”
“At some point, yes. We need to know you’re not carrying any concealed weapons.”
By this time, Joe was rolling his eyes and came over to join him. “Lady, you’re going to be frisked, but that can happen later.” He gave Luca a pointed look. “Cuff her up.”
“You’re not touching me!”
“Jesus,” Luca muttered. He gazed at Joe, hoping he would have the right words to gain her cooperation, but it didn’t look like Joe had any such magic. Instead, he reached out, grabbed her arm, and spun her so her torso was leaning against the car. Meanwhile, he had her arm in a viselike grip behind her back.
“Owww. You’re hurting me.”
“Cuff her, Fierro,” Joe said.
Luca took her other wrist and folded it behind her back. He had his cuffs out, but she struggled as soon as he tried to put them on her.
