"And where are you from, ma'am?"
California, can't you read?
"Los Angeles! I can't wait to get back, it's been way too long since I went to the beach."
The thought of Emily's full figure in nothing but a bikini seemed to smooth things over with the officer. He smiled.
"Tell you what, Miss. I'm gonna go run this license, and as long as you don't got anything bad on here I think I can let you off with a warning."
Emily beamed and tossed her hair back.
"Really? Oh, thank you so much, officer. I promise it won't happen again."
The cop sauntered back to his car and got inside. Emily checked her lipstick in the mirror.
What a shitty little stretch of country. No doubt she was the first good-looking woman that man had seen in months.
Emily wished her plans really were as simple as heading to the beach. She had thought seriously about quitting her job and moving back to LA. She planned to spend her time off looking for work - maybe a modeling job, if she could fudge her age a little bit.
The cop hadn't left his car. Emily began to worry. She didn't have any marks on her record, right? She racked her brain trying to figure out what could take him so long.
Emily looked back at the officer through her window and thought she saw him on his radio. He hadn't turned his lights off - didn't they usually do that for traffic stops?
Finally the officer emerged. He walked slowly back to Emily's car. The sunglasses blocked his eyes, but she could see he'd furrowed his brow.
"Uh, Miss?"
Emily smiled and said a silent prayer.
"Yes, officer?"
"Uh, I don't really know how to say this," he said, casting his eyes to the ground. "I gotta arrest you."
Emily's blood chilled.
"WHAT?! Why?"
The officer looked up, gestured to her beat-up sedan.
"Says the car's stolen, ma'am."
Emily blinked. She shot the officer a brittle smile.
"Oh, no, no, there must be some mistake," she said. "This is my car. I've had it for years."
The cop scratched his head.
"Yeah, well, I'm sure it is, miss, but I gotta bring you to the station. Protocol."
"The station? Like the police station? You're gonna take me to JAIL?!"
The officer put his hands out.
"Well, now, I'm gonna take you to the station, then you can talk to the sergeant on duty. Maybe you can get it all sorted out."
Emily groaned and slammed her hands on the wheel. She couldn't believe her luck.
"Who would steal this piece of shit?" She muttered.
The officer stood uncomfortably by her car door.
"Ma'am? I am gonna need you to step out of the -"
"Okay, yeah, yeah, I'm out," Emily said. "Can I at least bring anything?"
The officer watched Emily stand to her full 5-2, 130 pounds. As far as he could tell, she wore a tight floral dress and tan high heels - nothing else.
"Uh, no, unfortunately we - we gotta take everything into evidence."
Emily crossed her arms below her plump breasts.
"Evidence? Wait, what's gonna happen to my car?"
"We gotta impound it, but you can probly get the fee waived if this turns out to be nothing. Ma'am, can you turn around and put your hands on the vehicle, please?"
Emily groaned again. She made a point to stick her round ass out.
The cop lurched forward, grabbed Emily's hands and put them behind her back. She felt his erection.
"Oh, Jesus," she said.
The officer dropped his handcuffs and muttered an apology. Emily considered kicking him in the face and making a run for it.
He finally cuffed her, walked her to his squad car and set her in the backseat. Emily was almost as embarrassed as she was angry.
The officer climbed into the front seat and radioed in news about Emily. She sat cuffed in the back.
"What's your badge number?"
The drive to the police station didn't do anything to help Emily's impression of Harmon County, Oklahoma. She didn't see a single car on the road during the entire 15-minute trip. In fact, she didn't see much of anything besides turkey vultures.
Her companion wasn't much help, either. He didn't even try to make conversation with her, opting instead to hum along to a Christian radio station.
By the time Emily and the officer arrived at the police station, her feet hurt, her handcuffs chafed against her wrists and she had to pee.
And the station was nothing but a modest concrete building two stories high.
"This is your jail?" Emily asked as the officer pulled into the parking lot. Only one other car - a civilian one - in the lot.
"Actually, it's our jail-police station-city hall," the officer said. He looked back and Emily gave him an incredulous look. "It's a lot nicer on the inside."
It was, but not by much. Green doctor's-office carpeting and ugly wall plaques greeted Emily and the officer, who insisted on keeping up his idiotic perp walk routine.
The officer led her to a wooden desk manned by a man who could have been his brother: same uniform, same height, same cheap haircut. This one had glasses instead of shades.
"Evening, Donny," the officer said. "Here's the one I was telling you about."
Donny had definitely already noticed Emily. He couldn't keep his beady eyes off her.
"Yeah," he said. "Motor vehicle theft, right?"
"Well, that's apparently what I've been arrested for," she smiled. "But I've never stolen anything in my life."
Donny didn't look away from her breasts.
"Uh-huh."
"The lady was wondering if she could talk to the sergeant about things, get it straightened out," the first officer said.
Donny turned his head to the ancient computer at his desk.
"Sergeant's gone," he said.
Emily's eyes widened.
"Gone? He's gone? When is he coming back?"
Donny didn't look away from the computer.
"Monday."
Her jaw dropped. She mouthed the word "Monday."
"Aw, that's unfortunate," the arresting officer said. "Yeah, he likes to go home early Fridays."
Emily turned to him, still bound by the cuffs.
"What does that mean? Where do I go?"
The officer sighed and turned his head.
"You go there."
He pointed to a cell.
Emily spent the next three hours switching between sobs and shouts. The police - all two of them - told her she'd have to stay in lockup until Monday, when the sergeant could come in and talk to her.
Until then, Emily was a prisoner. In custody. She was fingerprinted, photographed and thrown in the tiny building's one cell with two familiar-looking black men. She was too busy trying to convince Donny to let her out to pay them much attention.
"Excuse me, officer Donny?"
The man sat immobile at his computer.
"Officer Donny, um, do you mind turning the TV down?"
Nothing.
Donny had barely glanced at Emily since she'd arrived. The officer who arrested her - Donny called him Chris - was much more sympathetic, but he'd left after booking to get back out on patrol.
Emily tried everything to get Donny's attention. She screamed, she pleaded, she flirted, she commanded. Nothing got through to him. He stayed in front of his screen.
Finally Emily gave up. She lay on one of the cell's hard cots - she'd chosen the one furthest from where the two black men sat and talked - and closed her eyes.
A deep voice startled her.
"We figured he was just racist when he ignored us, but I guess he's just retarded."
Emily opened her eyes. It was one of the two men in the cell with her. Both were tall, over six feet, dressed in jeans and t-shirts. Emily guessed they were brothers.
She shot the one who spoke a wrinkled look.
"Look," she said. "No offense, but I'd rather just keep to myself until I get out of here. Okay?"
The man raised an eyebrow, chuckled and turned back to his companion.
Emily closed her eyes again. But she started thinking about the two men in the cell with her. She knew she'd seen them somewhere...
"Oh my god," she said. "Donny. Donny!"
Still, Donny didn't look up.
Emily ran to the front of the cell, almost tripping over her heels in the process. She slammed her small hands on the bars.
"Donny, do you know who these guys are?" She yelled.
At this, Donny finally looked up, puzzled.
"Yeah," he said. He blinked. "Two guys with too many unpaid parking tickets."
Emily stamped a heel against the concrete floor.
"No, you idiot! Those are the Jones brothers!"
Donny didn't make the connection, but her cellmates did. They burst out laughing. The one she had spoken to - he was a bit skinnier, a cleaner look - shouted at Donny.
"Yeah, you hear that, man? We're murderers!" He punched the other man. "You found us! Does that mean we can get some better food?"
"Shit, we need a maximum-security facility, man," said the other. He had a higher voice than Emily had expected. "Certainly can't share a cell with no fuckin' car thief."
Emily kept her eyes on Donny. He watched the two men.
"Donny, listen to me," she said. "Jones. Brothers. Wanted for murder in three different states. That's them. That's them, Donny! You have them!"
The laughter quieted.
"Alright, seriously, though," the first man said. "Why the fuck you think we're the Jones brothers?"
"Cause we're black, man. We all look the same to white girls."
"Keep it down," Donny said. Continued watching the men. Concentrating.
"Remember all the news stories? You've seen these guys before, Donny. I know it."
