He shook his head, embarrassed. “I don’t have my wallet.”
The officer looked up at the other officer and then back at Kevin. His expression never wavered. “What’s your name, sir?”
“Kevin Hamilton.”
“Mr. Hamilton, Miss Jensen, could you please step out of the vehicle?”
Kevin got out thinking that he and Erica would follow them back to one of the patrol cars, but what the officer said next shocked him.
“Now face the vehicle and put your hands on the hood.”
“Are you serious?” Erica’s eyes widened.
“On the hood, sir. You too, miss.” His voice continued in the polite monotone, but Kevin saw the serious look on his face. His hand was now hovering over the pistol.
Kevin did as he was told and faced Erica, who was leaning on the other side of the car’s hood. The officer patted his back and chest and then ran his hands up and down his legs. He tried not to squirm at the uncomfortable personal nature of the search, focusing on Erica’s face. He knew that her shocked expression must have mirrored his own.
The officer reached into Kevin’s pocket and pulled out the driver’s license with Ward’s name on it.
“What’s this?” the officer said. “This says your name is Michael Ward.”
“I can explain that,” Kevin said.
“I’m sure you can.”
Kevin heard a click from behind and felt the cool metal of handcuffs encircle his wrists.
“What the hell is this is all about?” Kevin said as his hands were shackled.
“Mr. Ward, I stopped you for exceeding the speed limit…”
“I’ve been stopped for speeding before and I’ve never been searched! And my name is Hamilton, not Ward.”
Erica made a face for him to be quiet.
“You are under arrest for grand theft auto,” the officer continued calmly. “This vehicle has been reported stolen.”
“What?” Kevin said. “That’s impossible!”
“Officer,” Erica said, “it can’t be stolen. This is my car.”
“It was also reported that one of the occupants may be impersonating the owner of the car. The only identification Mr. Hamilton”-the officer sarcastically drawled the name-”has been able to produce is one for someone named Michael Ward. I’d say that’s sufficient evidence to make you suspects. You have the right to remain silent…”
Kevin listened to the litany of rights he had so often heard on hundreds of TV shows, almost unable to comprehend that they were now applying to him. He didn’t respond when the officer seemed to be asking him a question.
“What?” he said.
“I said, do you understand these rights?”
They both answered yes.
“This is ridiculous,” Kevin said. “How can we be under arrest for stealing her car? It’s her car!”
“Sir, please calm down.”
“How can I be calm? I’m under arrest!”
“Officer,” Erica said, “there’s obviously some sort of mistake. All of my identification is in my purse. If you’ll just check it, you’ll see…”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll take your purse with us, but this isn’t something we’ll be able to investigate here.”
Kevin remembered the backpack with the notebook and videotape.
“I need my backpack too,” he said. “I can’t leave it in the car.”
“What’s in it?” the officer asked.
“Some very important papers of mine and a videotape. It’ll be ruined if it stays out in this heat.”
The officer looked at Kevin for a few seconds. Kevin was about to say something else when the officer opened the Honda and retrieved the purse and the backpack.
“Where are we going?” Erica said.
“The local state police headquarters.”
“What about my car?”
“I’ll call for a tow truck and have the vehicle taken to the impound lot,” the female officer said. Kevin noticed that she didn’t say “your vehicle.”
Thirty minutes later they entered the state police barracks at Hutchins, Texas.
After three hours of bureaucratic forms, backtalk, and fact checking, the state police were finally convinced that Erica Jensen was, in fact, who she said she was. Relieved about the error being resolved, she gladly took back her belongings from Officer Brady, the patrolman who had stopped them. She looked at her watch. It was already 5:20. They had less than an hour before the warehouse closed.
“I’m sorry about the misunderstanding, Miss Jensen,” Brady said. “You can be sure that we will be looking into this matter to make sure this kind of thing doesn’t happen again.”
“Does this mean we’re free to go?”
“You are, Miss Jensen. But I checked the identification with Michael Ward’s name on it.” He jerked a thumb at Kevin, who was sitting at the desk of Officer Anson, the patrolwoman assisting Brady. “There is someone with that name and social security number, but the license number is for someone named Maria Gonzalez. Therefore, it’s a fake, not stolen. He claims he had it made as a joke. I’d be willing to let it go at that, but I still don’t have any identification for him.”
Erica sighed with relief when she realized they hadn’t made a connection to Ward’s death. “He was only speeding. That shouldn’t be a big deal.”
“He was also driving without a license and in possession of a fake driver’s license. Until I can confirm his true identity, he will have to remain here.” He must have seen her about to object again. “Under these odd circumstances, I have to be sure that there are no outstanding warrants for Mr. Hamilton’s arrest.” He said Kevin’s name with a slight, but detectable air of skepticism.
“Then, if he shows you some ID, he can go, too?”
“A picture ID is necessary. If he can produce that, then yes, he will be free to go.”
“OK. Where can I pick up my Honda?”
At the mention of her car, an embarrassed look crossed Brady’s face and he seemed reluctant to continue.
“It was taken to the stolen vehicle impound lot,” he said after a pause.
“So?”
“There’s a problem.”
“Of course there is,” Erica said, exasperated.
“I just talked to the lot. You can’t retrieve the car until tomorrow morning.”
“What!”
“I’m sorry, but with the state budget cuts, the lot’s only open until five o’clock. I tried to get them to make an exception, but they wouldn’t.”
Erica stood up without saying a word and walked to Officer Anson’s desk with Brady. Kevin looked as mad as she felt.
“What do I have to do to convince you that I’m not a criminal?” said Kevin, directing the question to both Anson and Brady.
“As I was telling Miss Jensen,” Brady said, “all we need is a picture ID. A copy can be faxed to us if it’s verified by another police authority.”
“And if I don’t produce one?”
“We can keep you here up to 24 hours for a misdemeanor. After that, we have to release you.”
Kevin looked at Erica, who knew what he was thinking. Every minute in the police station was dangerous. If the men after them could tap into police databases, they’d know where to find them. Not to mention that in half an hour, they’d lose the chance at getting a laser for the next several weeks.
“Erica can go, can’t she?”
“Of course,” Brady said. “She’s been cleared…”
Erica interrupted. “No, I can’t.” She told Kevin about the car.
Kevin fiddled with a paper clip from Officer Anson’s desk, staring at it as he did so with a look of desperation. Erica wanted to pluck the paper clip from his hand and make him look at her, but she knew it was his way of occupying his hands while he thought.
Just as Brady seemed to get tired of waiting, Kevin said, “All right.”