Page 368 of Rage

Paper Ring

By: C. Hallman

Chapter One

Gwen

Just when I thought this night couldn’t get any worse, red and blue lights flash in my rearview mirror.Fuck!

I glance down at the speedometer. 79mph.Fuck, again. I’m pretty sure the speed limit is 65 here.

Unreasonable fear creeps up my spine. Yes, I’m speeding, but that’s it. It’s not a big deal. People speed all the time. I’m gonna get a ticket and go on with my night. Nothing to worry about. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself as I pull onto the side of the highway.

We’re just outside of town, and it’s a cloudy night. The area is completely dark without any illumination from the sky or the city, making the cruiser’s headlights behind me seem even brighter.

I put my car in park and squint my eyes, watching the black silhouette of the police officer get out of his car and walk toward me.

My heart is racing, and my fingers tremble as I reach for the button to let my window down.

Why am I so nervous?

“Good evening, ma’am,” the cop greets as soon as he is close enough to peer down at my face. With one hand on his gunholster, he grips a flashlight in the other, searching the inside of my car like I’m hiding a drug dealer in here.

“I’m sorry I was speeding,” I blurt out after cursing Gia in my head for making me do this again. “My roommate called and asked me to pick her up from this guy’s house, and I was just trying to get there as fast as I could. I know that’s not an excuse. I should definitely drive the speed limit, especially at night. I know that, but?—”

“Is that why you’re in your pajamas?” The cop interrupts my rambling, shining his flashlight directly on my chest.

I lower my head and stare at my bare legs, covered only by a pair of thin plaid shorts. The white tank top I’m wearing is not much better, considering there is no bra beneath it. My cheeks turn hot, and I’m sure they redden to match my embarrassment.

I let my long, uncombed hair fall into my face, hiding my shame with an auburn curtain. “Um, yes. I was asleep when she called. I didn’t really think clearly.”

“That happens.” The cop smiles. “Sounds like you were just being a good friend.” He lowers the flashlight, letting me get a better look at him for the first time. He appears to be in his early forties, judging by the gray in his hair and the frown lines on his forehead.

“I’m sorry again.”

“No worries. I’m just gonna have to check your license and registration, and you’ll be on your way to pick up your friend.”

“Of course!” I turn to reach for my purse, which I usually have on the passenger’s seat. Today, there is only my phone. “Shit. I must have forgotten my purse while I was rushing out, but I have my registration here somewhere… I think.”

Flipping on my interior lights, I start rummaging through the glove box. There are fast food receipts, unopened mail, random flyers, and take-out menus, but nothing that looks like a registration.

“Let’s start with your name and birthday, okay?”

“Gwendoline Anne Baker. I actually turned 18 yesterday.” Not sure why I mentioned that part. It’s not like he cares.

“Well, happy belated birthday,” he says flatly while scribbling something down on a notepad.

“Um, thanks. What exactly does a registration look like?” I ask like a complete dumbass. The officer raises one eyebrow at me, as if he’s wondering if I’m joking.

“Who is this car registered to?”

“Me, I think? Or maybe my… husband,” I murmur that last part. Even after two years of being married, I’m still not used to saying it. Mostly because I haven’t seen my so-called husband our entire marriage. I don’t even know why he gave me this car, and right now, I don’t know why I’ve been driving it for two years without once questioning who it’s registered to.

He was right… I am a naïve child.

My nerves are already on edge, but the cop manages to kick them up a notch when he starts walking around the car and saying something I can’t make out into his radio.

I give up my search for this stupid registration and keep my eyes on the police officer, who is coming back to the driver’s side now. I’m about to apologize for a third time when he suddenly reaches for the handle of my door and pulls it open.

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