Page 128 of The Forgotten

“Of course,” he says soothingly. “You’ll need a new license if they did take it. Gerald, will you call a tow truck, please?”

“I’m sorry. How are you calling one if my phone wouldn’t work?” I ask, struggling to stop crying.

A couple of orgasms on the heels of fear and anger will do that to a girl.

“The radio works even when the signal is patchy,” the officer named Gerald replies. “We’ll get you sorted out.”

“Crying freaks him out,” Officer Adams says under his breath as Gerald practically runs away. “Please, feel free to continue. I like when he’s all squirrelly.”

A giggle that has no business existing escapes from my lips, and I force myself to get it together.

“Can I check my car to see if they left my license?” I ask, not wanting to get shot for moving too quickly.

“Go ahead,” he says with a nod.

Walking over to my car door only to find it still open, I sigh as I see the mess on the seat. My cash is all over the place, and I quickly pick it up so I won't lose it to the wind. I guess my money isn’t what they were looking for.

No, they wanted you instead.

Rolling my eyes at my thoughts, I grab my phone to use as a flashlight to look through my wallet. As I suspected, someone swiped my driver’s license. That’s just awesome. Grabbing my bag, I put my things inside it and pull it over my head before shutting the door.

“Did you find it?” Officer Adams asks.

“I didn’t,” I sigh. “The window where my license usually sits is empty, and it’s not anywhere else that I could see. This is going to make things difficult.”

“Where were you headed?” he asks.

“Minneapolis,” I reply. “I was in the middle of moving. Everything I have is in this car.”

“The tow is on its way here,” Gerald says, looking for signs that I may still be crying.

I have my nonexistent big girl panties on, Officer. The tears are all gone for now. It feels like I’m missing something bigger than my license at the moment, and I don’t know if I should put a name to it yet.

Words have power.

Forty minutes later, I’m huddled in my sweater in the back seat of the police car feeling half frozen by the time the tow truck rolls in front of my car. I’m trying to convince myself that I have to go back outside when Officer Adams pops his head into the car.

“Since you’re headed for Minneapolis anyway, I’ll ask him to take you to an all night mechanic. Is that okay?” he asks.

“That would be amazing,” I breathe gratefully.

“He’s going to make sure they have an opening, and then he’ll load the car up and drive you there,” the officer explains.

“Thank you,” I say. “I have one of those road side assistance cards. Should I show it to him?”

“Nah,” he says. “This road has stuff like this happen a lot, and the county pays him to handle the tows for them. They’ll handle the entire bill, no matter how far he has to drive. The actual cost to fix the car will go through the insurance.”

“Wow,” I whisper. “That’s amazing.”

“It sounds like you need a win,” Officer Adams says, standing to glance in the direction of the tow truck. Leaning back down, he nods, pretending that he can’t see how misty my eyes are getting. “He says he’s ready for you.”

Taking the hint, I exit the car as I walk to the Powell Towing truck. He’s already pulled my car onto the bed to save the rims since the tires are shredded, and the beta is looking at me warily.

He’s in his fifties, with almost no scent, and I wonder why he’s acting as if I’m problematic.

“You’re not going to bring any biker trouble my way, are you?” he asks.

The urge to get hysterically angry rises, but I force it down since I need this ride.