He had a hoody on, and it was covering his head, but since he was facing me, I could still get a pretty good indication of what he looked like.
About five foot ten, hundred and eighty five pounds. Brown or really dark green eyes. Brown hair. Tan skin. Small hands with no wedding band.
Black pants. Black lace up boots. Black hoody.
“You don’t need to know why. Just suffice it to say that this earth should be rid of you and every one of your kind,” Stan hissed.
My brows rose. “Really?”
He sneered. “Really.”
I laughed.
“Got it. How about I take a guess?” I asked.
I recalled the notes in the case.
The details of each doctor.
Stan’s page listed him as widowed.
Also listed him as not having any living children.
“Did we kill your wife?” I asked.
It was heartless, yes, but it was effective.
“Don’t you say her name!” He bellowed.
I refrained from saying that I ‘didn’t say her name at all.’
Bingo.
“Did a cop take your kid, too? Or did your kid take his own life because your wife died?” I continued cruelly.
Stan shook his gun at me, waggling it around as he started to scream at me.
“It was all you! You! She did nothing to you! All she did was get pulled over, and then one of you,” he hissed. “Shot her because he thought she was going for a gun. She didn’t even know how to shoot a gun!”
He ended that explanation on a shrill scream.
I felt sympathetic.
Of course I did.
Accidental shootings happened.
It sucked, extremely, horribly bad, but it happened.
Cops, on a daily basis, had to deal with so much shit from everyone that, at times, we expected everyone to be bad.
When we pulled someone over, we aren’t happy to do it.
We’re wary.
When we pull you over, are you going to be accepting of why we pulled you over?
Will you rant and scream at us for doing our jobs?
Will you pull your gun on us? Pull out a knife from some hidden place inside your car and stab us with it. Will your passenger do something?
A car to most people is just that, a car.
A car to a police officer is a weapon.
It can run over us. It can hide larger weapons. It can get you away from us and put other people, innocent people, in jeopardy. It can house more than one person who could potentially harm us.
So you see, there are multiple facets to look at when a police officer pulls someone over.
All of this is running through our brain.
We have to be extremely cautious, doing what we do.
Whether this was what happened with Stan’s wife or not, I would never know.
But even if it was or wasn’t, that didn’t give him the right to take out his hurt and pain on every single police officer that he came into contact with.
“I’m sorry, Stan,” I said seriously.
And I was.
I was sorry he had to experience something like that.
I would hope had the same thing happened to me that I would find the strength to move on.
To make this world a better place.
I wouldn’t, however, start shooting and killing innocent people.
Especially ones that were carrying our next generation like these innocent women were doing.
“You can shove your sorry’s up your ass,” Stan snarled. “Sit down in that chair right there. We won’t have to wait much longer. I called your woman’s mother. I know she gets home around this time.”
I closed my eyes very briefly, thankful that this time wouldn’t be one of those times.
She was safe at KPD headquarters.
Thank God.
Stall. That’s all I had to do.
It’d been thirty minutes since I left.
And I knew Luke had seen right through my hasty exit.
He was very aware of my shortcomings, and I’d made sure that he was up to date on my state of mind.
He was aware that something wasn’t right, and I knew he’d come to check on me if I was gone longer than thirty minutes.
My disease and conditions were all about checks and balances.
I was very open with everything about me…to the right people.
I needed those people in my life to keep me on the straight and narrow.
Luke. My parents. My sister and brother. A few doctors.
Nikki.