CHAPTER ONE
Trooper Jake MacDonald adjusted the air vent on his patrol car and cursed. The potent smell of alcohol wafting through the car meant he wasn’t going to get home on time. Again. This was how Jake caught a lot of his drunks. His nose had won him the Mothers Against Drunk Drivers Trooper of the Year award multiple times over the years.
In the notebook always at his side, he jotted down the time and his observations of the vehicle in front of him. Speed was about ten miles per hour. Frequency of how often the driver crossed the center and fog lines was about once every five seconds. And the amount of swerving between the lane lines—a lot. Writing things down in real time always made writing the report easier and the prosecutor liked the specifics detailed.
He flipped on his overhead lights and picked up his radio. “Three-seven-nine, Seattle?” His badge number was 379 and how he identified himself to dispatch.
“Three-seven-nine.” That was dispatch’s way of saying go ahead.
“Put me out with a DUI. We haven’t stopped yet, but it’ll be northbound one-six-nine, about milepost twenty. And can you call county and see if there’s someone who wants it? I was supposed to be off an hour ago.”
“Three-seven-nine.” That was dispatch’s way of saying okay. Per protocol, they used as few words as possible so as not to waste valuable air time.
When the flashing red and blue lights didn’t catch the driver’s attention, Jake pulled to the side of the vehicle and made eye contact with the driver. A woman with blond hair teased to the roof of the car smiled and waved.
“I’m not waving at you, lady,” he muttered. “Pull. Over,” he mouthed while pointing to the side of the road, but she didn’t catch on.
He picked up his mic again and switched the setting to PA. “Pull over,” he said as he looked right at her, still gesturing for her to move to the shoulder.
She’d seen him and had to have heard him but chose to make a run for it anyway. Accelerating to twenty miles per hour, she stared straight ahead, put both hands on the wheel, and leaned forward, putting all of her concentration into outrunning him. While she continually glanced over her shoulder to see if he was still there, he patiently stayed at her side, periodically telling her to pull over and stop.
Finally, she eased over and parked askew on the shoulder. He pulled in behind her, updated dispatch on where they’d stopped, and got out of the car. Adjusting his hat, he walked cautiously to the driver’s side of the vehicle.
“Hello, Occifer,” the woman slurred. “Did you need something?” Her liquor-laced breath made him think he was in a brewery, and her eyes were bloodshot.
“Hello, ma’am. Do you know why I stopped you?”
“Stopped me? I thought you were just saying hi!”
“Ma’am, have you been drinking?” At this point, it was a rhetorical question, but one he had to ask.
“Well, I, um, I mean, I had a couple of beers at the bar earlier. But I’m fine now.” She waved a hand in dismissal.
“Please turn off the car and step out of the vehicle.”
“Wha…?” Her mouth dropped open in presumed shock.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, ma’am. It’s late, and I’d prefer the easy way,” he said.
“Fine,” she said, fumbling with the keys before turning off the car. A short battle with the door handle had her cussing under her breath, but she eventually flung it open with a huff. An empty beer can tumbled out onto the street, the clank echoing in the silence.
“That’s not mine,” she said, turning up her nose at the sight.
“Of course not.” Jake fought off an eye roll. “It never is,” he muttered. Except that it always was.
While helping her out of the car, he explained that because he smelled alcohol and she appeared to be impaired, he was going to have to do some tests.
“Like hell, Trooper,” she said suddenly and turned to run. “You’ll never catch me!”
The four-inch heels and the fact that she was drunker than a freshman at a frat party meant he could walk faster than she was “running.”
He strode up to her and kept pace easily at a brisk walk. “Ma’am, please don’t run.”
She looked over, and her eyes widened, clearly surprised he was keeping up. A sudden U-turn and she was heading back toward the cars. In an attempt to run faster, she pulled off one shoe and then tried for the other. While struggling with the second shoe, she tripped and pitched forward. Jake reached out to keep her from falling, catching a handful of shirt. After a quick series of arm flails, twisting, and turning, she’d somehow wiggled her way out of the baggy top, regained her balance, and taken off again. Evidently, her outfit hadn’t included a bra, so she was now topless, her bare breasts glowing and bouncing in the headlights.
Jake took two giant steps and moved to grab her. Just as he did, they made it to where the pavement met the grass, and he tripped, falling and taking her down with him.
A county deputy parked and got out. He sauntered over to where Jake was lying on top of the struggling woman and laughed.
