“Are you sure?” Alyssa asked one last time.
“No,” Nia said. “I'm willing. That isn't the same as sure.”
Alyssa hugged her carefully around the uninjured shoulder. Nia held on for a moment longer than she intended. Then she got into the sedan and adjusted the seat, the mirrors, and the angle of the steering wheel. She checked that the lights were functioning. It was not preparation for a confrontation; it was routine maintenance she had performed long before Halverson entered her life. She wanted to reclaim the ordinary meaning of those gestures.
Traffic was light near her house and heavier as she approached downtown. The first several miles passed without incident. Nia listened to a classical station turned so low she could barely distinguish the strings. Every police vehicle made her stomach tighten, even those parked on the opposite side of the street. She noticed her own reaction and forced herself to keep breathing evenly. Fear was present, but it did not change the speed of her car or the distance she left between herself and the vehicle ahead.
At 6:51 p.m., on the return journey from her appointment, red and blue lights appeared in her rearview mirror.
For an instant the present split apart. She was back at the original intersection, hearing a door pulled open and the harsh voice commanding her onto the pavement. Her hands went cold. She had to remind herself that she was driving now, not lying against the hood of a car, and that she still had control of the steering wheel. She signaled, moved into a safe place beside the curb, and stopped.
The patrol car behind her was Halverson's.
She recognized the unit marking before he opened the door. Then he emerged with the same broad stance and deliberate walk, his right hand briefly adjusting his equipment belt. He wore sunglasses though the daylight had begun to soften. Nia felt a wave of anger so sudden it almost displaced the fear.
He knew her. Her face had been on television for days. He knew her name, the pending case, and the allegation that he had planted evidence. Yet he was approaching her car again as if nothing had happened.
When he reached the window, his expression showed a flicker of recognition that he quickly covered. “License and registration,” he said.
Nia kept her hands on the wheel. “Officer Halverson, my license is in my wallet and my registration is in the glove compartment. I will retrieve them when you instruct me to do so.”
He leaned down. “We meet again.”
“Yes.”
“Funny how people keep ending up in trouble.”
“I have not been told the reason for this stop.”
His jaw tightened. He glanced back toward his cruiser. “Taillight issue.”