"Ma'am?" The approaching officer is medium height, with a Jersey accent and tired eyes. He holds the flashlight up next to his head, shining it low enough that it doesn't blind her. The name on his tag readsO 'DONNELL. Sue can see his partner sitting in the cruiser, and hears the dispatcher's voice on the radio. "Are you having car trouble?"
Sue stands next to the Expedition, staring back at him, not answering. Her fear levels are still off the chart and she's afraid that if she opens her mouth she might start screaming. And she won't be able to stop.
"Ma'am?" Now the flashlight goes into her eyes and she hears the cop's voice grow more concerned. "Is something wrong?"
No. No. Just say the word. Send him on his way.
Sue's head goes forward, mouth twitching. It probably looks like she's about to throw up. The cop stands there waiting until she finally gets the words out.
"I'm f-fine."
He shines the light on the Expedition, across its tires and license plate. "No trouble with your vehicle? What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"
"I didn't-" Her voice sounds strained and awful. She clears her throat, swallows and tries again. "I thought I saw something run across the road in front of me." She sounds a little better now, clearer if not steadier. "It was a deer or something, I swerved so I wouldn't hit it."
The cop shines the light on her tire tracks, running smooth and straight to the shoulder. Then back to her face again. "Where are you headed?"
"Ashford."
"Are you aware that there's a winter storm warning in effect for this area for the next twelve hours? You're not supposed to be on the roads unless it's absolutely necessary."
"It's an emergency."
"What happened?"
"Excuse me?"
"What kind of emergency is it?"
She stares directly into the flashlight beam, beginning to feel a balloon of apprehension inflating within her. "My daughter. She's-she may be in trouble. She's with her father. I got a phone call asking me to come pick her up. He told me to take this route. I'm not from around here." She's aware that her voice is rising in pitch as she talks, becoming shrill, but she can't do anything about it. "I mean, I am, but not this immediate area, so I was following the directions he gave me. I just have to get to Ashford."
The light leaves her face. There's a pause. She realizes that he's looking at her hands, bare and encrusted with dirt and dried blood from digging. He shines his light on the Expedition's broken window. His voice becomes formal again. "May I see your license and registration?"
He waits a good ten feet behind the Expedition while she goes back through the passenger's side to take them out of the glove compartment, all the while anticipating the noise or movement that will make him shine his flashlight through one of the windows. But nothing moves or shifts and he just stands back there, waiting. When she brings him her license and registration, he takes them from her.
"Return to your vehicle."
Sue goes back to the Expedition, opens the driver's side, and gets in, eyes riveted to the rearview. She can see both cops clearly inside the car, one of them talking on the radio, the other typing on the dash-mounted keyboard.
Sue stares at the phone, waiting for it to ring. It doesn't. Her eyes go to the wadded-up fax pages accumulated across the floor, a small pile of discarded paper, the detritus of her night thus far. The phone remains silent.
But in her mind she can hear the voice telling her not to say or do anything that might jeopardize Veda. It gets tangled up with Phillip's voice, the two of them merging into one, telling her to stay calm. She supposes this is the point, the voice eventually infecting her head so thoroughly that it doesn't need to call her anymore, it's just there.
At last the officer comes back with her paperwork, but he doesn't hand it back to her yet. He shines the light on her face again, not speaking for a long moment. "Ms. Young, are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me?"
She shakes her head. "I don't think so."
He leans forward. There's no expression in his eyes, but they are green and alert, and they seem kind as well, waiting for some sign from her, any indication of distress. "There's nothing I can do for you?"
"No, thank you."
He sighs. "All right. I'm going to…" Then, almost as an afterthought, he shines the flashlight into the back of the Expedition, Sue's eyes traveling with it to the still-bright bloodstains all over the backseat, the kid's blood sprayed everywhere like modern art. The cop instinctively takes a step back, face stiffening, the flashlight in Sue's eyes again, his voice cold and abrupt.
"Ma'am, step out of the car and keep your hands where I can see them."