“You were behind me.”
“You failed to move immediately.”
The Old Man glanced toward the shoulder.
“I moved as soon as there was enough room to stop safely.”
The Officer stared.
“That’s not what happened.”
The Old Man looked back at him.
“I believe it is.”
There it was.
The first turn.
Not the traffic stop.
The tone.
The Officer stepped closer.
“You calling me a liar?”
“No.”
The Old Man spoke calmly.
“I’m telling you what I remember doing.”
The Officer looked toward the road.
Then at the Old Man again.
“You people always want to argue.”
The Old Man’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“What people?”
The Officer ignored the question.
“Stay in the vehicle.”
“I wasn’t planning to leave.”
The Officer turned and walked back toward his cruiser.
The Old Man watched through the mirror.
No anger.
Not yet.
Just attention.
The Officer sat inside the cruiser for several minutes.
The Old Man remained still.
His phone vibrated.
He looked down.
Three missed calls.
One message.
ETA?
Another.
Convoy slowing.
He did not answer.
He had told everyone not to follow too closely.
That had been intentional.
The morning route inspection was supposed to be quiet.
Ordinary.
He wanted to see the road.
The intersections.
The local traffic.
The places where vehicles would bottleneck later in the day.
He had insisted on traveling separately for the first portion.
Now the patrol stop complicated everything.
Still, there was no reason for anyone behind him to intervene.
Not yet.
The Officer returned.
He held the license.
No ticket book.
No warning slip.
The Old Man noticed.
The Officer stopped beside the door.
“Step out.”
The Old Man looked up.
“For what purpose?”
The Officer’s mouth tightened.
“I said step out.”
“I heard you.”
“Then do it.”
The Old Man placed one hand on the wooden cane resting beside the center console.
The Officer noticed immediately.
“What’s that?”
“A cane.”
“I can see that.”
The Old Man almost smiled.
“Then we agree.”
The Officer did not appreciate it.
“Leave it.”
The Old Man shook his head.
“I need it to stand.”
The Officer stared.
“You got a medical condition?”
“I have seventy-two years.”
That answer should have eased things.
Instead, the Officer’s face hardened.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
The Old Man’s voice remained level.
“I think I told you I need the cane.”
The Officer opened the driver’s door himself.
The Old Man’s expression changed.
Small.
But real.
“Officer.”
“Out.”