Things you don’t want to see in the rearview mirror:
(a) Your new cell phone crushed under your tire.
(b) Ditto your girlfriend’s dead puppy.
(c) A goalie mask.
(d) Flashers.
Ben sees (d).
“Shit.”
He pulls over on the PCH near the entrance to Aliso Creek Beach.
An empty stretch of road on a foggy night.
Looking in the mirror again, he sees that it’s an unmarked car with a flasher attached to the roof.
But he doesn’t have anything on him and the car is clean.
The plainclothes cop’s face appears at the window. He shows his badge and Ben rolls the window down.
“License and registration, please.”
“May I ask why you stopped me?”
“License and registration, please.”
Ben takes his license from his wallet, hands it over, and then reaches toward the glove compartment for the registration.
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” the cop says.
“Do you want the registration or not?” Ben asks.
“Step out of the car, sir.”
“Oh, come on,” Ben says. Because he just can’t help himself-it’s in his freaking DNA. “Why did you stop me? Do you have probable cause?”
“I saw marijuana smoke coming out of the driver side window,” the cop says. “And I can smell it now.”
Ben laughs. “You saw marijuana smoke from a moving car at night? And you don’t smell anything-I never smoke in my car.”
“Step out of the car, please, sir.”
“This is bullshit.”
The cop rips the door open, grabs Ben by the wrist, hauls him out, and arm-bars him to the ground.
Then the kicks start coming.
Ben tries to go fetal, but the kicks come into his ribs, his shins, his kidneys, his balls.
“You’re resisting arrest!” the cop yells. “Stop resisting!”
“I’m not resisting.”
Two more hard kicks, then the cop comes down with his knee on Ben’s neck and Ben feels the gun barrel press against the base of his skull.
“ Now who’s the asshole?” the cop asks.
It’s such a weird fucking thing to say, but Ben isn’t focused on that.
Because he hears the hammer click back.
His breath catches in his throat.
Then the cop pulls the trigger.