“What?”
“Ma’am, I need you to step out of the car.”
“Step out…why?” she sputtered. “Two months? I was in Europe! I used a passport. Would you like that? You can blame my daughter, you know. I live with her, and she drives me everywhere—not that I can’t drive, I certainly can—but didn’t they check that in the car dealership before they let me buy this thing? What was wrong with those people?”
“Out. Of. The. Car.”
She swallowed and tried to unlatch her seatbelt. Tried and tried, but Jo Ellen reached over and touched the button to free her.
“Relax,” she whispered. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Actually,” the officer said, “she was swerving, driving inconsistently, and hitting eighty for the last ten miles. Also, driving with an expired license and can’t produce a registration.”
“I’m working on that!” Jo Ellen insisted, nervously fluttering all the papers.
“Wait. You were following me? For ten miles?”
He didn’t answer, but let her open the door and step out, where she promptly swayed and nearly buckled. “Oh! This road. So uneven!”
With a harsh glare, he lifted his flashlight and shined it directly on her face. She blinked and covered her eyes. “Do you mind? As you just so kindly pointed out, I’m seventy-eight.”
Jo Ellen reached over and stuck her head out the window, smiling like a pageant queen. “I found a bill of sale. Will that work? And, of course, you can call Frank, but it’s late and we don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
When he lowered the light, she saw his metal star badge that read Deputy Sheriff Okaloosa County, and on the other side of his chest a simple name tag read Herman in block letters.
“Is that your first name or last?” Maggie asked, the words coming out fast and nervous. “I knew a Herman once. Herman Wisniewski and?—”
“I’m going to ask you again. Have you had anything to drink tonight, Mrs. Lawson?”
“No, sir,” she said, sucking in the thick and sticky air. “I am not an old lady hitting the sauce. I’m merely trying to get home—well, it’s not really home, it’s a summer house—because my grandson’s girlfriend died in a car accident and he has their newborn baby and…and…” Tears of pure frustration and fear sprang. “And Iamold, and I am not very good at highway driving but my friend has cancer and?—”
He pointed to the ground and took out a phone. “Walk in a straight line, heel to toe. Please note you are being recorded.”
“Oh, don’t put me on one of those arrest shows. Ihatethose shows.”
“Ma’am. A straight line. One foot in front of the other, please.”
She swallowed and looked down at the mix of gravel and dirt and cursed herself for pridefully choosing sandals to walkaround West Palm Beach so she didn’t look like a tourist in big white sneakers. Now she couldn’t walk like the sober woman she was.
Taking a breath, she put one heel in front of the other toe and tried to step in the darkness—he couldn’t give her some light? She took two steps on the unforgiving gravel and a mosquito dive-bombed her ear.
“Oh!” She waved it away, which cost her some stability, making her flail and lose her straight line, but she didn’t fall. “There. Okay? Are you happy now?”
Herman didn’t look like he was ever happy.
He produced a device about the size of a walkie-talkie, but she instantly knew that thing wasn’t for communication with his cop pals. He pointed to the clear plastic tube on the top. “I need you to put your mouth right there and breathe.”
He might as well have asked her to run into the highway and lay down.
“Um, no.” She lifted her brows. “I have no idea whose mouth has been on that.”
“Oh, I do. And every one of them was over the limit. It gets wiped after every use.” He held it closer. “I’m officially ordering you to take a breathalyzer, ma’am, and if you decline, you will be arrested for refusing a roadside sobriety test.”
“Not taking the test cannot be against the law!”
He lifted a brow, cool as a cucumber, but she suspected his stoic patience was waning.
“Florida Statute 316.1932, also known as the implied consent law, which you agree to when you get a driver’s license in any state. In addition, driving with an expired license is also a misdemeanor.” He gave the box a little shake. “Breathe into it.”
