I run this town. I run this road. And when I see two girls who look like you driving something they shouldn’t be driving, I stop and I ask questions. That’s my job. You got a problem with that?
Lawson leaned against the Lexus, scrolling his phone like this was a lunch break. Greer picked at his nails with a pocket knife, not even pretending to care. A truck pulled into the station. An older white man got out, saw the scene. Two black women standing with their hands visible, three officers surrounding them, IDs on the ground.
He looked at Thornton. Thornton gave him a nod, casual, like everything was under control. The man went inside, bought his cigarettes, came back out, drove away. Nobody asked what was happening. Nobody needed to.
Two black women, three white cops, a small town in Georgia. The scene explained itself, or at least everyone decided it did. Nicole pulled the license out from under the car. Oil on her fingers, oil on her dress. She stood up slowly.
No, sir. No, sir. What? No, sir. I don’t have a problem.
Smart girl. Thornton stood up and turned to Audrey. What about you? You got a problem? Audrey looked at him straight in the eyes.
The way she’d looked at every corrupt officer she’d ever sat across from in an interrogation room. The way she looked at men who thought their badge made them untouchable. No problem, Sergeant. That’s what I thought. Thornton turned back toward the cruiser, then stopped. turned around like he just remembered something.
Actually, Lawson run these plates. Something about this car doesn’t sit right with me. Sarge, I already ran. Run them again. Lawson got on the radio.
Audrey could hear the dispatch operator’s voice crackling through. She knew the plates were clean. Thornton knew, too. This wasn’t about the plates. This was about time.
This was about making them stand there in the heat on display for as long as he felt like it. Greer spit his gum on the ground 2 in from Nicole’s shoe. Didn’t say sorry. Didn’t even look at her. 3 minutes passed.
Five. The sun was directly overhead. No shade at pump number two. Sweat ran down Nicole’s neck into the collar of her red dress. Audrey’s black tee stuck to her back.
Thornton leaned against his cruiser, watching them like they were entertainment. “Plates are clean, Sarge. ” Lawson’s voice came from inside the car. Thornton didn’t move. He took a long drag of his cigarette, blew the smoke in their direction. “Clean, huh? ” He looked at Audrey, then at Nicole, then at the Lexus.