Читать книгу They - SLMN - Страница 6
ОглавлениеThe siren woke her up.
“Shit!” said Howie, his eyes on the rear view mirror. “Shit, no. Not today. Not now.”
They hadn’t been on the road long. She glanced at the clock on the dash—11:14 a.m. They only left the airport ten minutes ago and were now on the highway into Richmond, Virginia.
Howie was pulling the SUV towards the shoulder, still cursing. She could see his hands shaking.
Melissa Jones twisted around in her seat as the siren blared again. There were two officers in the car behind them, their faces impossible to make out in the haze of the flashing red and blue lights.
“Were you speeding?” Melissa asked.
“Shit no, I ain’t crazy.” Howie brought the car to a halt by the metal barrier at the side of the road. Vehicles shot by them on the road, causing the SUV to rock as they passed by. He already had the glove compartment open, his hand searching for his documents.
“Just stay calm, okay?” he told her, checking through a small bundle of papers to make sure he had everything he needed. Howie’s words made her feel more nervous. It was just a traffic stop, why was he so jumpy? “Keep your hands where the cops can see them, okay? No sudden moves. Don’t argue, don’t talk back, don’t say anything unless they ask you, you got me?”
She nodded. His nervousness was having an effect on her. She tried to calm her breathing. The cops had stopped her before, or at least they’d pulled her dad over when she was in the car. It seemed to happen a lot, and Dad always sighed and said, “Here we go again.” But he’d never appeared to be scared for his life. Howie was sweating, shifting in his seat. He looked like he wanted to bolt.
The cops were taking their time, probably running Howie’s plates through their computer. Howie checked through his papers for the third time.
“Shit,” he said. Awkwardly, he reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. It took a moment for him to find his driver’s license, which he added to the stack of documents. He handed the wallet to her. She moved to put the wallet in her lap but he shook his head. “Keep your hands visible.”
“Okay,” she said. “It’s going to be okay, Howie. Try to relax.”
“Sure, I’ll relax,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Crap, we should record this.”
“Record it? Really?”
Howie had his phone out and was opening a live streaming app. He spoke into the camera.
“Okay, this is Howie Do coming to you from I-95 in Richmond, VA. Just been pulled over by a couple of cops. You are my witness.” He handed the phone to Melissa.
“You want me to record this?” Melissa said reluctantly.
“Hell yeah.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”
“Periscope it. Live broadcast on your channel. Just in case they take the phone away.”
The slamming of two car doors interrupted Howie. Melissa glanced in the side mirror and saw two cops, both male, both white, both with hands on their holsters, approaching the SUV. One hung back while the other approached the driver’s side.
Howie lowered the window, his hands on the wheel, one still clutching his pile of papers. Melissa did her best to cover him and the cop with the phone camera.
“This your vehicle?” the cop by Howie’s window asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“You got license and registration?”
“Yes, sir, it’s all here. I’m going to hand it to you now, okay?”
Howie slowly and deliberately held out the stack of papers to the officer, who didn’t take them.
“You armed?”
“Yes, sir. My concealed permit is right here.”
The cop took a step backwards, away from the open window.
“Step out of the vehicle, sir.”
Melissa thought he might protest. Instead, Howie opened his car door and stepped out. She had to twist around in her seat now to keep the camera on them.
“Is your companion armed also?”
“No,” said Howie.
“Ma’am, step out of the vehicle please.” This instruction came from the second cop, his voice muffled through Melissa’s window. Her heart hammering, Melissa opened her door and stepped out, phone still in her hand but held to her side so it wasn’t obvious it was recording. The roar of a passing truck made it hard to hear what Howie’s cop said next, but to her surprise he now had his hands on the hood of the car and the cop was searching him.
Melissa’s cop directed her to do the same. She placed her hands on the hood, the phone still in her right, its camera facing back towards her. She tried to remain calm as his hands patted her shoulders and underarms and then travelled down her body. To her relief, he didn’t grope her. It was still uncomfortable, and when he was done he didn’t say she could take her hands off the car.
She glanced over at Howie, also still facing her. The cop was taking longer to search him. He flashed her a weak smile, but he was clearly scared. She tried to angle the phone in her hand towards her boyfriend so that the camera could see what was happening to him.
The cop found and removed Howie’s gun, then checked to see if it was loaded. After that he pushed it into his belt and snatched the papers out of Howie’s hand, who was still pressed to the metal hood. As he did so, one of the documents slipped out and fell to the ground. Instinctively, Howie bent to pick it up.
The cops reacted like a bomb had gone off. Both drew their weapons. Both shouted at him to stand still.
Howie froze. Melissa couldn’t see his face as it was below the hood of the car, but he saw his back. The cops weren’t looking at her so she raised the phone camera.
“I’m just getting my permit,” Howie said, his voice hard to hear with the traffic thundering past.
“Do not move!” the cop screamed. His gun was pointing straight at Howie.
Time seemed to slow down. The cars rushing by now seemed to be taking their time. Each whoosh, whoosh, whoosh accompanied by a flash from the gun. Melissa heard only the first shot. At least three more followed. Howie dropped out of sight behind the car. Her hand flew to her mouth. She might have screamed but as she was slammed into the car hood, it knocked the breath from her lungs. The phone fell from her hand as she dropped to the ground. The cop kicked her arm as she lay there. She was distantly aware of the pain. She tried to beg them to stop. For some reason the only word she could get out was the one that made him stop kicking her.
The cop bent over, his face looming and angry.
“What did you say?”
“Canadian,” she wheezed.
“You got a passport?”
She managed to reach a trembling hand into her jacket pocket. Her passport fell out onto the asphalt. The cop picked it up, flicked through it and showed it to his partner.
“Shit,” he said.
