9:00 pm, Thursday Night
There was a multitude of thoughts racing through my mind as my car tore down the eerily empty interstate at a hundred and ten miles an hour. Everything that had happened in the last half hour was largely a blur- a panicked phone call from my wife's younger sister, something about a threat, a flat tire? She seemed scared, terrified even. I remember throwing jeans on, tucking the little nine millimeter handgun I kept beside my bed securely into a holster inside the waistband of my pants; I remember kissing my wife goodbye and offering some sort of hurried explanation.
I passed another sign on the highway. Twenty miles to go. I checked the speedometer, still flying at a steady one-ten. At about that exact moment, bright lights lit up my mirrors and my heart sank well below my stomach.
I hadn't even thought about the consequences of doing one-ten in a sixty-five zone. Fuck.
It was a few minutes before the cruiser's door opened; though sitting on the shoulder of a dark highway waiting to lose my license made it seem much, much longer.
"Good evening, Trooper Matthews of the Pennsylvania State Police," the officer quickly recited. "License and registration please. Do you know why I pulled you over?"
For a moment, I didn't move, my hands glued to the wheel.
"Yes sir," I offered after collecting my thoughts. "I was going a little too fast."
"Well, you were going about fifty miles too fast, according to my radar. License and registration, come on."
At least he's polite.
"Uhhh, I do have a loaded handgun in the glove box with my license and registration officer," I said slowly. "I have a carry permit for it."
I heard him sigh; he quickly glanced back at his cruiser, then to me. He grabbed the radio transmitter on his shoulder and thumbed the push-to-talk button.
"Trooper Matthews, weapons check on a traffic stop, interstate eighty, mile marker two-two-six." He then recited my license plate over the radio and took his hand off the button. He started at me for a moment until a slightly crackly response came over the air.
"Trooper Matthews, all units in your vicinity are busy, please use caution."
The officer ordered plainly, but slowly, "Alright. With your right hand, I want you to open the glove box. Do not- do NOT reach inside until I tell you to."
I nodded and opened the glove box. The door fell gently down, and the holster and pistol were immediately visible in the dim yellow light.
"With the index finger and thumb of your right hand, grab the pistol by the handle and pull it out. Keep the barrel pointed in that direction," he ordered, pointing through the car to the shoulder of the highway.
I did as was told, and when he had the gun securely in his possession, he asked, "Any other firearms in the vehicle?"
"No sir."
"Alright. Wait here." With that, he walked back to his cruiser. I slammed my head against the rest and murmured god damnit. The handgun was legal, but speeding- that would surely be an enormous fine, if not a suspended license. I cursed my typical luck.
A few moments later, he was back at my window with my gun and a clipboard. He handed my sidearm back to me inside a clear plastic evidence bag. "Now that chamber is empty, feel free to load it but not in front of me."
I thanked him, my heartbeat accelerating. This was it.
"If any other trooper pulled you over tonight, you'd already be in the back of a cruiser with cuffs on. You wanna tell me why you were driving so fast?"
"My little sister called me about an hour ago," I started. "She sounded terrified, she mentioned finding a pocket knife stuck in her car tire and another knife stuck into the door of her dorm room. She told me she was scared for her life," I breathed. "She asked me to come spend the night so if anything happened, somebody would be there."
"Where is her campus?" Trooper Matthews asked.
"Hazleton," I replied. "She's a good kid, she doesn't get into trouble or look to start fights."
The officer pulled his clipboard up into the light cast by his cruiser's headlights. He pulled the top sheet off and held it for a moment.
"I've never torn up a ticket I've already started writing before," he calmly stated, ripping the sheet in half. He handed me the torn pieces through the open window.
"You best get on your way, but consider yourself lucky. There are troopers posted outside of Hazleton and if one of them catches you going that fast, you're gonna be without a license by the end of the night. I already ran your plates, if another officer does, that's it for you. Is that all clear?"
"Yes sir," I mumbled. "Thank you-"
"You're free to go, have a good night." With those final words, he disappeared from my window and mere seconds later his SUV passed me, charging down the road. I didn't start my car until his tail lights receded far in the distance. I had never felt such relief in my entire life.
When I got to her campus half an hour later and rapped on the front door of her suite, it instantly flung inward and with tears streaming down her face, Nikki threw her arms around my neck and buried her face into my jacket.
"Thank you," she murmured several times. Her head was tucked under my chin, her hair was always so soft. I rubbed her back as I embraced her, typical of the exact same hug we'd had since the second or third time I said goodbye to her.
After a while, I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her up a little, looking into her beautiful hazel eyes.
"Are you alright?"
She nodded, wiping her face.
"Why don't you go freshen up? You have dinner yet?"
"Earlier but...I could eat again," she smiled.
"Pizza ok?"
She nodded and headed for the bathroom.
I came to find out over the next two hours that although Nikki didn't definitely know who was behind the acts, she had a pretty good idea. A girl on her basketball team, Sarah or Sammy or something, had gotten into drugs, far enough that Nikki and some friends felt it necessary to intervene. Consequently, the girl was kicked off the team and very nearly kicked out of the school, and it was evident to everyone that she had a grudge, a temper and a lot of free time on her hands.
Drugs had gotten bad in Pennsylvania over the previous months, especially heroine which was even cheaper now and more available had it had ever been. To an addict, cheaper prices don't mean they get the same amount of dope for less money; it means they get more shit for the same amount of money they'd spend anyway. It was ruining peoples' lives left and right.
