You threatened to drag me through a car window. You do not get to quietly undo your actions simply because you realized you picked the wrong victim. Judge, please. Dunn pleaded, his broad shoulders slumping. If my sergeant sees this, it's my badge.
I've got a pension on the line. I'll rip up the citation right now. We can just pretend this never happened. I am not interested in pretending. Officer Dunn, Valerie said, standing perfectly still in the freezing downpour.
Leave the cuffs exactly where they are. In the passenger seat of the Volvo, Timothy Hillard watched the entire collapse through the lens of his phone. He zoomed in slightly to capture the sheer panic on Dunn's face. The secure cloud upload icon in the corner of his screen pulsed a steady, reassuring green. Every threat, every lie, and every desperate backpedal was already safely locked away on a server three states over.
Within minutes, the wail of approaching sirens pierced the rhythmic drumming of the rain. Two patrol SUVs roared down the highway, their tires kicking up massive waves of water as they skidded onto the gravel shoulder behind Dunn's cruiser. Doors flew open. A tall, gray-haired man with sergeant stripes marched through the rain, flashlight cutting through the darkness. Sergeant Paul Mitchell was a 20-year veteran of the force, a man who actually respected the badge he wore.
Dunn. What the hell is going on here? Mitchell shouted over the storm. Then his flashlight beam swept over the hood of the cruiser and illuminated the woman standing in handcuffs. Mitchell stopped dead in his tracks.
All the color drained from his face. My God. Judge Covington. Mitchell broke into a sprint, practically shoving Dunn out of the way. Your honor, I am so deeply sorry, Mitchell said, his hands moving swiftly to unlock the cuffs.
"Are you injured? Do you need a paramedic? " I am cold, Sergeant Mitchell, and my wrists are bruised, Valerie said calmly, rubbing her arms as the cuffs fell away. But otherwise, I am unharmed. Done. What is the meaning of this?
Mitchell roared, turning on the younger officer with furious intensity. Why is a sitting superior court judge handcuffed in the rain on my highway? Dun's eyes darted around like a trapped rat. The instinct to lie, honed by years of unchecked power, kicked back in. Sarge, she was erratic.
She crossed the yellow line twice. When I approached, she was hostile, uncooperative, and refused lawful orders. I smelled a strong odor of narcotics coming from the cabin. The sound of a car door slamming shut interrupted him. Tim stepped out of the Volvo.