The siren had no effect. The Lincoln continued north without even pausing at intersections. Thankfully traffic was light, and they were in a residential area. Maybe he was heading home.
The car came to an abrupt stop. He didn’t pull over; he simply stopped in the middle of the street. As if all of a sudden he saw the cop car behind him.
Lainie jerked to a stop as well, shutting down her siren but leaving the emergency lights on while she notified dispatch. “Robert 8, the vehicle stopped on Chestnut just north of 10th Street.”
Another unit pulled in behind her, and she heard them tell dispatch that they were on-scene, 10-97. It was Jason Griggs and Sara Green, both from her class. That was good; an officer with more time in patrol might jump in and take over.
This is my chance to handle something from start to finish on my own,Lainie thought as she stepped out, staying behind the door, never taking her eyes off the Lincoln Town Car.
Sara came up on her left and Jason took the cover-officer position on the passenger side.
“What’d he do?” Sara asked.
“It’s just traffic. He blew a couple of lights and a stop sign. Like I said, probably a deuce.”
Sara nodded knowingly. This time of the morning, drunk drivers were not uncommon.
Lainie stepped from behind her door and started for the driver’s side of the Lincoln, moving cautiously. Eyes on the back of the driver’s head, her adrenaline still running high, she worked hard to fight off tunnel vision.
Pausing at the trunk, she placed a hand on the lid to make certain it was closed. The vehicle’s motor still rumbled, and that bothered her. The back windows were darkly tinted, and she couldn’t tell immediately if anyone else was in the car.
Flashlight in her left hand, right hand on the butt of her gun, Lainie approached the driver’s door, stopped just at the doorpost, and shone her light at the driver.
The window was down. Behind the wheel was a white man, maybe forty, squinting in the beam of her flashlight. He wore a button-down shirt with a black necktie partially untied, as if he’d begun to take it off and then stopped. He craned his neck and peered back at Lainie with bleary gray eyes.
Definitely drunk. A nasty, jagged scar ran across his left cheek.
He held up a hand to shade his eyes from her light. “Is there aproblem?” A pungent odor of alcohol wafted up toward Lainie when the man spoke.
“Can you turn off the car please?”
“What did I do?”
“Please turn the car off.”
He mumbled something that sounded like a curse, but he complied.
“You ran a couple of red lights. Do you have your license, registration, and proof of insurance?”
“It’s not my car.”
“You’re driving. Do you have a license?”
“I’m almost home.”
“Sir, I need to see your license.” Adrenaline dissipated in a cloud of annoyance. Drunks were rarely easy to deal with.
Lainie leaned forward, shining the beam of her flashlight around the car’s interior. Someone was lying down in the back seat, but Lainie left that to Jason. She needed to concentrate on the driver, grateful she had backup with her.
She asked one more time for his license.
“Officer, you’re making a huge mistake. I’m almost home.” He had both hands on the steering wheel, and he now stared straight ahead.
“Sir, can you step out of the car please?”
“I said,I’m almost home.”
She shoved the flashlight in her sap pocket to free up her hand, then pulled on the door handle and opened the door. “I need you to step out of the vehicle.” Lainie had clear probable cause to administer a standard field sobriety test.
