Now he was feeling a little guilty about it, though. He knew he shouldn’t get mad at his mother for things she did when she was upset. She couldn’t help herself when she got that way. He was supposed to feel badly for her, not give her stuff away.
“Did I do something bad?” he asked.
“No, son. You meant well,” his father said.
“It’s the thought that counts,” Tommy said. That was another thing adults always said that never quite made sense to him. But it sounded good.
Anne handed her papers and license out the window to Frank Farman.
“What are the charges, Deputy?”
“I ask the questions here,” he said. “But then that’s always your problem, isn’t it, Miss Navarre? You never know when to keep your mouth shut.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not against the law.”
“Get out of the car,” Farman ordered.
“No.” Her response was automatic.
Farman yanked open the Volkswagen’s door. “Get out of the car. Your careless driving and belligerent attitude are leading me to believe you might be intoxicated. You can get out of the vehicle or I can remove you from the vehicle and place you under arrest.”
Then he would put her in the back of his squad car and . . . what? She would never be seen again? The scene was fresh in her mind: Dennis saying, “He killed her,” and Anne turning to see Frank Farman’s face in the window.
Shaking inside, she got out of the car. Farman shined his flashlight in her eyes.
“You called Child Protective Services on me,” he said. “You filed a report.”
“It doesn’t mean much now,” Anne said, “in view of what happened today.”
“That goes in my record,” he said. “You embarrassed me and put something in my record that could affect my chances at promotion.”
Anne didn’t know what to say. Are you delusional? seemed a poor choice. His wife was missing. His son had attempted murder. He was worried about a notation on his record impacting his career prospects.
“You embarrassed me,” he said. “Now I embarrass you. Stand with your arms straight out at your sides. How will a DUI charge go over at school, Miss Navarre?”
“I’m not intoxicated.”
“Touch the tip of your nose with your left finger.”
As she did, he reached out and shoved her sideways so hard she stumbled.
“That doesn’t look good,” Farman said. “Putting one foot directly in front the other, I want you to walk in a straight line away from me.”
“You’ve had your fun, Deputy,” Anne said, attempting to maintain some kind of control over the situation. “You won’t get a positive breathalyzer test from me. If you set out to frighten me, you’ve succeeded.”
He kept the light in her eyes so she couldn’t see, but there was nothing wrong with her hearing. She heard a gun being cocked.
“Don’t worry about that breathalyzer,” he said. “I’ve been drinking enough for both of us. You’ll have a positive reading. Now walk. Back toward my car.”
The shaking wasn’t just on the inside now. She was genuinely scared. There was no one on the street. They were in the middle of the block—where the corner streetlights didn’t quite reach.
He was holding a gun on her.
“Walk!”
She put one foot in front of the other. As she went to take the second step, Farman tripped her from behind and she fell to the pavement, scraping her hands as she tried to break her fall.
A car turned the corner from Via Colinas and the headlights splashed over her. Anne looked up at it, putting every bit of the fear she was feeling into her expression.
Please stop.
“It’s Miss Navarre!” Tommy called out.
His father pulled to the curb in front of her Volkswagen.
“Tommy, stay in the car.”
“But Dad!”
“Stay in the car!”
Anne scraped herself up off the pavement.
Farman turned away. “Sir, stay in your vehicle.”
“What’s going on here?”
Peter Crane. Relief ran through Anne like water.
“You’re interfering in a traffic stop,” Farman said. “This woman is intoxicated.”
“No, she isn’t. My son and I just had dinner with her. I can vouch for her. She drank a soda.” He looked past Farman. “Are you all right, Miss Navarre?”
“No,” Anne said. “I’m not.”
“I have a phone in my car. I can call 9-1-1.”
If Farman had been angry before, the fury rolled off him now in waves. Anne could feel it vibrate in the air around him. She thought he might explode with it, but he abruptly walked back to his cruiser, got in it, and drove away.
“Oh my God,” Anne said, leaning against her car for support as her knees went weak.
“What the hell was that about?” Crane asked. “Is he out of his mind?”
“I think there might be a chance of that, yes,” Anne said, breathless. Her heart was racing.
“What can I do for you?”
“I think you just did it,” Anne said.
I think you just might have saved my life.
They escorted Miss Navarre home, which Tommy found both highly exciting and very important. He didn’t understand exactly what had happened. From inside the car, he couldn’t hear what everyone was saying. And his dad wouldn’t explain it to him, but Tommy could tell he was upset about it, which meant it must have had something to do with Mr. Farman. But Miss Navarre was very grateful, and she must have thanked them ten times.
“You guys are my heroes,” she said before she went inside her house.
Tommy could have floated on air.
He chattered on the rest of the way home, saying what a great team he and his dad made. What a cool night it had been—having had almost a date, and then being a hero. Wait until he told Wendy. She wasn’t the only one with a story to tell now. He was a hero.
His mom’s car was in the driveway when they pulled in, but even that couldn’t spoil Tommy’s mood. Of course he wouldn’t be able to tell her what all had happened. He and his dad had gone out for pizza, that was all. The rest was their secret.
What a great night.
76
He had to have followed her, Anne thought as she went into the house. She sat down at the dining room table—the nearest chair. She was still shaking.
Frank Farman had to have been following her. The odds of him randomly stopping her, of all people, were too long. He had to have followed her out of the parking lot downtown. And in order for him to follow her out of that parking lot, he had to have known she would be there. He had to have followed her from home hours before.
He shouldn’t have even been on the street. She couldn’t imagine Dixon hadn’t taken him off duty after everything that had happened.
“You forgot the ice cream,” her father announced.
Anne looked up at him as he came in from down the hall, wheeling his slender oxygen tank out in front of him as if it were a dapper accessory to his ensemble of burgundy pajamas and black silk robe.
“I put it on the list, but you didn’t get it,” he complained. “Butter pecan. I wrote it right at the top.”
“Are you kidding me?” Anne said. “I had one student try to murder another student today, and you’re complaining that I forgot the ice cream?”
“I don’t see what one thing has to do with the other.”
“No. You wouldn’t.”
“A deputy stopped by here looking for you after you left for your dinner,” he said disapprovingly. “I didn’t raise you to be a criminal.”
“You didn’t raise me at all.”