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22
“Sir, can you step out of the car?”
Standing at the window and turned to the side, Grant held his breath, hoping the darkness would hide his shoulder patch and chest badge stitched or embedded with Wayward, Georgia, potentially compromising his cover.
As he approached the vehicle, the doctor put the car in park and lowered his window. “What’s this about, Officer? I don’t believe I was speeding.”
Hillsboro looked like your normal, overly indulged, one percenter type of guy. Taking a late-night drive while wearing dark slacks, a button-down shirt, and a light coat jacket. Silk blend.
Grant might wear a uniform to work every day but he knew how to spot a quality suit. Making a necessary stop at a local Men’s Warehouse when the occasion arose.
Sealing the deal of the evil doctor’s profile, he also drove a one hundred-and-forty-thousand-dollar car. Grant’s eyes narrowed, adding to the list that he had hurt the woman sitting in the vintage police cruiser. Which she managed to park nearly horizontal in front of the luxury car.
Protective instincts for the woman behind the wheel took hold. This man, who had caused Tati undo harm, was sitting in the car before him. Free to do other unspeakable things to other people he cared for. Lucas.
Something even more strange began to happen. Something completely out of character. He found rage beginning to broil inside his chest, and he raised his voice. “I said, step out of the car. Sir.” The polite words failed to coincide with his threatening tone.
Hillsboro seemed confused and rather intimidated as he unclasped his seat belt that looked more like a full body strap from a roller coaster ride.
Once the doctor finally set himself free from his fancy trappings, he swung the door open and stepped out of the car, reaching into his back pocket, likely for his wallet.
“Do not move. Hands in the air,” Grant demanded in his most gravelly, intimidating, police enforcement voice. The one that made graffiti kid shit his pants the first time he’d heard it.
But the doctor didn’t appear too concerned. “Jesus. Okay. Can you at least tell me what I did?”
Grant decided this might be a good time to search the doctor’s vehicle. Maybe find something that would alleviate his fate if he found himself before a judge and having to explain his actions.
It was one thing to pull someone over, outside of your jurisdiction while driving a fake police cruiser, when the only notable thing inside the vehicle was a Taco Bell bag as opposed to, say, a Barrett M82 Sniper Rifle sitting next to a pair of night goggles.
Or vials of propofol.
He would need to handcuff him before sweeping the vehicle. One side of his mouth turned up, ominously. It was protocol.
As he’d done hundreds of times, he moved his hand to his waist and to the tab that normally secured his set of handcuffs and found nothing.
Fuck.
He raised his eyes to the sky and mouthed a few more expletives.
“You need assistance, Officer Wright?”
He turned to find Tati walking toward him, after having executed a wardrobe change as she was wearing a matching uniform, except missing much of the flash that was attached to his. To compensate, she wore a badge and patch with correct markings. She also wore a prosthetic nose that did a fair job of disguising her identity.
“Sir, I’m going to ask you to stay here while I confer with my partner.”
The doctor stood there in disbelief with his arms crossed, shaking his head. Grant had to agree. This was fast becoming a shitshow.
He pulled Tati to the side and hissed, “My handcuffs are missing.”
At first, she looked confused and then it was as if a light bulb illuminated over her head and then was just as quickly doused. “Oh, shit.”
“What do you mean, oh shit?”
She lowered her fingers from her lips. “I might have hidden them in my panty drawer in the hotel room to surprise you with a spontaneous police-officer slash innocent prostitute role-play.”
“How do you expect me to secure the man without handcuffs, Tati? Does your uniform, perchance, have a set? Or did you pick it up at your local Party Supply?”
“Ooh. Good idea. No, this is a standard issue uniform that Morales nabbed for me. Wait a minute and let me go grab the handcuffs.”
