Cold sweat pricks at my hairline. "Everything in there is legal, I promise."
He raises an eyebrow, just slightly.
"Not where my mind went," he says. There's a hint of something in his tone. Not amusement. Maybe curiosity. "Where are you headed?"
I hesitate for half a second too long.
"I'm... passing through."
Another look, longer this time. His eyes are a cool gray, focused in a way that makes me feel transparent.
"Passing through from where?" he asks.
I bite the inside of my cheek. "From out of state."
That's also true. I just don't add the part where I left in a hurry and didn't look back.
He nods once and glances down at my license.
"Ashley Clark," he reads. "You picked a quiet road to speed on."
"I prefer back roads,” I admit. “They’re safer than the highway, and you never know where you’ll end up.” I immediately kick myself for saying that out loud.
The corners of his mouth twitch with amusement. “It’s only safer than the highway if drivers follow the law. So, stick to the speed limit, okay?”
I nod quickly. "I will. I promise."
He studies me again, and I can tell he's weighing something. His eyes flick to the packed car, then back to my face.
"You doing okay tonight, Ms. Clark?"
The question is gentle. It shouldn't undo me the way it does.
I let out a breath that feels like I've been holding it for miles. "Yes. Just tired."
He doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't push. Instead, he steps back toward his cruiser, license and registration in hand.
"Sit tight."
My pulse spikes again as he walks away.
Sit tightsounds suspiciously like something you say before someone gets arrested.
I stare straight ahead, mind racing. If he asks to search the car, what do I say? None of it's illegal but explaining it feels impossible. Explaining why I'm here, alone, with everything I own stuffed into my backseat, feels even harder.
The minutes drag.
When he returns, the tension in my shoulders is so tight it almost hurts.
He hands my paperwork back through the window. "I'm letting you off with a warning tonight."
Relief crashes through me so hard my vision blurs.
"Thank you," I say, the words tumbling out. "I really appreciate it."
"Where are you headed exactly?" he asks again, softer this time.
Where exactly? I haven’t a clue.
