Bull's Eye: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #3

Chapter 20

Jo places the pistol and proof of her state-issued concealed carry permit on the dash before wrapping the fingers of both of her hands over her head. It's legal to carry a pistol in public in Wisconsin, even if the Jeep is private property, but the formalities of a police encounter still require a certain degree of tact and nuance.

Jo is legal, but she's overcompensating. Good. Her judgment isn't compromised. Probably got used to the pep pills in the service.

But what about Vince? He's not a vet. Will he be as cordial?

The two officers cautiously exiting the squad car stiffen up when Jo rolls the window down, sticks her head out and says, "I've got a pistol, but it's legal. It's on the dash. I won't do anything stupid."

Maybe a little too cordial.

"Thank you for telling me that. Would you mind exiting the vehicle while I retain that pistol?" one of the officers, a male, says. He looks inside the Jeep as he approaches Jo, his eyes scanning the backseat. Zandra keeps her head down and her eyes on the floor. There's something about locking eyes onto a person, even if that person isn't looking back. Something intangible becomes entangled, and the target can "feel" the gaze.

Eyes down. Don't need to dump gas on this situation.

But there's something in the officer's voice that piques Zandra's attention. A familiarity. She can't resist a sneak peek herself to scratch that itch.

A little look won't hurt too much, will it?

Her glance lasts a little too long. It freezes the officer's advance. He pauses and looks over his shoulder, as if something grazed the back of his head. But the only thing racing nearby is Zandra's heartbeat. Because the face now taking another look at her hunched over frame in the backseat is a little too familiar for comfort.

Does he know it's me?

It only lasts a few seconds, but it feels more like an hour. There's only one word charred into Zandra's consciousness. It repeats like propaganda.

David.

She doesn't dare take another look. If it's not him, she worries she'll look suspicious. And if it is him, she'll really look suspicious.

Down. Down. Down. Keep those eyes down.

The mimicry of David continues toward the front of the Jeep, where the pistol is retrieved from the dash after Jo follows the order to momentarily exit the vehicle.

"Any other weapons?" the officer says in David's voice.

Probably.

"Not that I'm aware of," Vince says from the driver's seat as the second officer, identified as Rider, appears at his open window. "You good, Jo?"

"That's correct. Nothing else that I'm aware of," Jo says.

What a couple of lawyers.

"David" remains silent, hands on his belt, while the other officer requests IDs.

"I can get you that in a moment, but first I'd like to ask why you're talking to us right now," Vince says, as diplomatic as someone riding the escalators of amphetamine can.

Do I even have my ID? I have no idea where it is.

"An employee at a restaurant near here reported being robbed. The license plate on this Jeep matches the one described by the employee," Rider says.

Shit.

Zandra can almost feel the temperature in the Jeep drop. They might want to shoot her a dirty look, but Jo and Vince remain motionless.