Like Wildfire

Chapter 12

"First, of my word; therefore play, music. Prince,
thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife."

                                                                    -Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

John

He was making good time. Everything had gone according to plan so far: he'd left his house soon after Peter, dressed for the dance, and his mom had assumed that's where he was headed, as well. He suffered a brief moment of guilt for what she would have to go through in the next few days, wondering where he was. Maybe he'd call her when he got a little farther away. Sure, that's what he would do. His iPod was on shuffle and the next song up was Breakin' the Law by Judas Priest, so he cranked it and pounded his hand on the steering wheel in time to the heavy beat. God, gotta love the classics. The song had reached the part with the siren in the background and he grinned and pressed the accelerator. He glanced in the rear view mirror and did a double-take when he saw the flashing red lights. You have gotta be shitting me! He briefly considered trying to outrun the cop, but almost immediately thought better of it. He could talk his way out of a speeding ticket. Not a problem.

He pulled to the shoulder and rolled down his window. He watched the Texas State Highway Patrol officer approach, a hand on her gun.

"Remain in your vehicle and put your hands on the steering wheel, in clear sight," she ordered.

He complied, still sure he could charm his way out of the ticket. "Yes, ma'am. Was I speeding?"

She ignored his question and spoke unintelligibly into the radio on her shoulder. Finally, she approached, still standing well behind him on the driver's side. "Are you John Ramirez, 1215 South First Street, Messina, Texas?"

Oh, crap. This wasn't about a speeding ticket. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Step out of the car, Mr. Ramirez and put your hands on your head." Her gun was now half out of its holster.

Shit, shit, shit. "Sure. Of course. Can I ask what the problem is? I haven't done anything wrong." He got out of the car and found himself shoved unceremoniously against the hood of his car, being patted down.

"Do you have any needles or anything that might stick me?"

"No, ma'am. Am I being arrested?"

She reached for his wrists and fastened them together behind his back with handcuffs. "No, sir. I've been asked to take you back to Messina for questioning and I feel more comfortable with a big guy like you handcuffed."

"Ow! Geez, okay! I'm going!" He tried not to trip as she yanked him toward her patrol car and shoved him in the back. "What about my car?"

"It'll be towed." Those were the last words she spoke to him. She said nothing when they pulled in front of the sheriff's office in Messina. She said nothing as she hoisted him out of the car and led him into the low brick building. She didn't so much as crack a smile as she unlocked his handcuffs.

"Well, lookie what we got here: a runaway, huh?" Sheriff Berry spit tobacco juice into a paper cup and took his feet off his desk. "Glad you could join us, son. Now, why don't you have a seat right here and tell me more about your part in this little sex tape fiasco at the high school? I think you know a whole lot more than you admitted to."

John laughed and shook his head. "I wasn't running away. I was just out for a nice evening drive. Gosh, Sheriff, I already told you everything I know about that awful sex tape thing."