And even if it could, it could never outrun the police radio. There would be a car from the next town or the state police waiting for them up ahead. Still, if there was a turnoff… even a dirt road… Max might have tried it. But this road was a long, straight stretch of nothing much.
Up until now, Max had made a point of sticking to small roads and avoiding highways and interstates. In this case, that seemed to have backfired. There wasn't even any traffic to try to get lost in.
Max didn't want to be in charge, and he had made that clear to his friends. His track record in the past had not been great, and Liz's vision of their future had confirmed his worst fears. Nevertheless, he was driving, there were flashing lights in his rearview mirror, and there was no time for a conference. Max made the only decision he could and pulled over, feeling the van shake as it hit the gravel on the side of the road.
Max was glad no one asked about his plans. It wouldn't make the others feel any better to hear he didn't have any.
"I got your back," Michael said. His tone suggested the faith he had in Max, his belief that Max would get them through this… despite all evidence to the contrary. Nevertheless, Max felt himself straighten up, buoyed by Michael's belief, no matter how misplaced that belief might be.
He rolled down the window as he watched the policeman get out of the car. There was only one of them, Max noted. And he was a sheriff, not a state policeman. Better, Max thought. Less chance of him mobilizing the whole state against us.
The sheriff, who was somewhere in his forties, had a deadly serious expression on his face. When he approached the van, Max nodded and said, "Officer." Max, fighting the urge to say anything else, waited for the sheriff to do something.
"Do you know why I stopped you?" the sheriff asked.
"No sir," Max said. "I don't think I was speeding."
The sheriff shook his head. "No, this is a safety stop. You have a broken taillight."
Max felt a rush of relief. "Thank you, I will get that fixed right away," he said.
"Good, I'll write you a summons for it, but you won't have to pay if you get it repaired in forty-eight hours," the sheriff said.
Max knew what was coming next, and his stomach tightened.
"Could I see your license and registration, please," the sheriff said.
Instinctively, Max reached for his wallet. Then he hesitated. He couldn't show the man his license. God only knew what kind of criminal lists the Special Unit had put his and his friends' names on. And he didn't have a registration for the van.
"Is there a problem?" the sheriff asked.
"I'm sorry, I don't have my wallet," Max said.
The sheriff immediately looked suspicious. He looked hard at Max and then scanned the inside of the van with his eyes. "You kids are a long way from New Mexico," he said. "What brings you to Washington?"
Max realized that it wasn't enough to change the plate number. In the future, he and Michael would have to
change the license plate from New Mexico to another state.
"Son?" the sheriff said.
"We just graduated high school and we wanted to travel the country for a few weeks."
"Kind of inconvenient that you lost your wallet, then," the sheriff said.
Looking into the sheriffs intelligent eyes, Max felt his chances of getting himself and his friends out of this slipping away.
"Step out of the car, please," the sheriff said, putting one hand on his holstered gun. Max could feel the tension in the car. Without looking back, he knew that Michael probably looked ready to explode.
Max couldn't let the sheriff run the plates. He and Michael had picked random numbers and letters. As soon as the sheriff ran them, he would see that they didn't match the van. Max opened the door and started to step out. The sheriff took a step back and said, "The rest of you stay put."
Max's brain went into overdrive, trying to come up with a way to make this turn out right for everyone without attracting any attention. He came up with a handful of options… none of them good.
As the sheriff looked him over, Max realized why he had made the mistake of thinking for a moment that this would turn out okay. The man was a sheriff and wore a uniform like the one Kyle's dad had worn. Sheriff Valenti was the first adult Max and the others had trusted with their secret. If not for Valenti, Max might still be in the White Room.
"Turn around and put your hands on the van," the sheriff said. Max immediately complied.
Then the sheriff made a clicking sound and said, "Well, look at that, I found your wallet."
Max felt his heart sink yet again as he felt the man pull the wallet out of his back pocket. They were in trouble now. Deep trouble. If Max allowed this to play out naturally, he had no doubt that he and the others would shortly find themselves in the care of the Special Unit. But he didn't know how to stop it without hurting this man who was only doing his job. He didn't have much time; the Special Unit was close by. He had to get out of here, and fast.
Watching the sheriff carefully, Max noted that the tag on his uniform shirt said Sheriff Taylor.
"Max?" Michael called out from inside the van.
"It's okay," Max said, nodding his head. It was far from okay, but Max didn't want Michael charging the sheriff.
"You quiet down in there," the sheriff said to Max's friends. Then he leaned closer to Max and said, "You all wait right here while I make a call."
Realizing he had just a few seconds to act, Max seized on something. It was more of an act of desperation than a plan. It didn't feel right exactly, but it felt like the only thing he could do. "We need your help," Max said to the sheriff before the man could walk away.
"What?" Sheriff Taylor said, suspicion in his voice.
"We're in trouble. Someone's been following us for about ten miles now," Max said. Right on cue, a black SUV came from the direction Max had been driving. Max was sure it was the Special Unit SUV that had been in front of them.
"Really?" the sheriff said. Max could hear the smile in his voice.
"I'm serious, that SUV has been following us," Max said, nodding in the direction of the car. "They are watching us now." Then Max turned around and took a look at the sheriff, who was watching the SUV pull over with the same sharp-eyed intelligence he had eyed Max.
He's smart, and a decent person, Max thought. It wasn't an intellectual analysis, and Max thought it might be because he reminded Max of Sheriff Valenti. Still, he was sure he was right. Max didn't know how this could all turn out okay for everybody involved, but he felt a surge of hope.
"Don't go away, son. Let me talk to your friends," Sheriff Taylor said.