Twisted Time

11 - Police

Beside the car, the black-and-white canine stops and stares at her with sad eyes, his fur dripping wet.

Dan runs a hand through her hair. "Hey, buddy, what are you doing out here all alone? You had me scared to death."

A single bark is the answer—as if the dog heard her through the glass. With the rain faded to a soft drizzle, Dan lowers the window. The reaction is a wagging tail, and Dan's heart leaps out to the soaked fur ball. "I guess you're not much better off than I am, at the moment. Did they leave you? How long have you been out here?"

The dog's eyes plead with her, one of its black ears perked high, the other folded.

"Look, I'm not a dog person. What do you want from me?"

Her visitor opens its mouth, a pink tongue lolling out.

"You're a cute one. Unfortunately, I don't speak dog."

Wet from head to toe, the animal looks skinny. As if on cue, it stands up to shake out the dripping coat, showering Dan with a flurry of droplets.

"Ugh. Stop it, or I'll close the window." Another bark and a glance with a tilted head. "Okay, you win, I won't close the window. You're better company than my thoughts at least. Do you want to share a late dinner?"

She lifts the Mars bar and the tail beating a fast rhythm into a puddle tells her the dog understood her well enough. Her fingers numb from the cold, Dan fumbles with the package of the crushed chocolate bar. While she is hungry, the dog seems to be starving. She'll be good to go for another hour or so. It's too late for dinner, anyway. And a home-cooked meal would be better—or a visit to a restaurant, preferably with an appealing date—like Ric.

Her thoughts wander back to the first guy in months she talked to about anything but business. A bark interrupts her musings. "Yes, I'm almost done. Patience, I crushed the candy in the first place because you scared me. But wait, I bet my sandwich would be better for you anyway."

She reaches for the crumpled paper bag with her leftover lunch. Her fingers sticky from nougat and caramel, she pries the ham-and-cheese sandwich out and offers it to the dog. "Here you go, buddy, that's half of my dinner for you. Seems you need the calories more than I do."

The canine steps up to the car and sniffs at the offered food before biting down on it. Nibbling at her candy bar, Dan watches as it devours the sandwich. Everything gone, it looks up, sad eyes locked on her every movement. "You're really a cute one, right? Still hungry?"

She breaks off half of the candy bar and offers it to the dog who doesn't hesitate to take it. "Yeah, you like that too. But I heard chocolate is not good for dogs. So, while I'd give you more if I had some, it's probably better I haven't."

She balls up the candy wrapper and paper bag and throws them onto the passenger seat. "Sorry, buddy, we're out of luck, no more food tonight."

With sticky fingers, she unscrews the water bottle, listening to the satisfying buzz of the content, and takes a long draught. The water is cold enough to burn her parched throat. The dog watches her and bends down to lap water from a puddle. The poor animal was probably abandoned on the parking lot. But she can't call an animal shelter at this hour.

The screeching of tires on wet tarmac tears her out of her musings. Two yellow cones of headlights stop only a few metres away. Dan closes the car's window while the dog barks a sharp warning and bolts towards the safety of the trees.

She puts the bottle aside and squints her eyes to check out the new arrival, her heartbeat speeding. Dan is about to turn the ignition when she recognises the broad orange stripe of a patrol car. Two officers climb out, and one walks up to her door. Her throat tightens, and her hand is slippery with sweat as she fumbles for the button to lower the window again.

The officer rests a hand on the car's roof and bends down to face her. "Good evening, madam. Everything all right with you?"

A quick glance shows her the dog slinking away into the shadows. Good luck, buddy. Wish I could join you. "Yes, I'm fine, just tired. Stopped to take a nap. You know, as that comedian suggests—in the ad."

She is sure her voice sounds insecure and nervous. The young officer contemplates her with an unmoving, boyish face before he shifts his stance to inspect the interior of the car. His gaze rests on her jumbled goodies on the passenger seat. Blood rushes to Dan's cheeks. "I searched for—uh, a pen."

She smiles, not sure how convincing her argument sounded. The officer frowns and switches on a torch. It is a heavy model, the metal glinting in the streetlights. Dan flinches away when he lifts his arm to point its bright beam into the back of her car. He lets the cone of light wander around until it rests on the mess on the passenger seat. Dan looks up and straight into it. The officer turns off the torch, but green spots dance in front of her eyes, and she blinks away tears.

"Excuse me, ma'am. May I see your licence, please?"

"Sure." No one ever asks me for the thing, and tonight it's all the rage. Glad I snatched the precious gem from Ric.

Still blinded, Dan fumbles for her wallet in the collection of her possessions, this time confident where she placed the plastic card. To find the insurance document takes longer. The thought she might disappear any moment hits her while the policeman studies the papers. She glances at the street lights, wishing for them to remain bright and stable. Though it would be fun to watch his face when I disappear into thin air right under his eyes. Pity I won't be here to see it.

He hands her the documents with a nod. "Have you been drinking, Miss Lent?"

Dan shakes her head. Yes, a fortnight ago at Susan's bachelorette party.

She winces when she remembers the hangover the next morning. To the officer, she presents a tired smile and her half-empty water bottle. He smiles back, a flash of white teeth in a clean-shaven face. Is the hatchling flirting with her?

She ponders if she should tell him about the abandoned dog when his older colleague over by the car mumbles something ineligible, swallowed by the crackle of a radio. While the officers talk, Dan shoves part of her possessions back into the purse, listening. They use a verbal code of sorts. The police-boy turns back to her.

"Do you have far to drive?"

"About an hour."

"Well, I wish you a safe return, Miss Lent. Take care, and have a good night."

Dan nods and watches him climb into the passenger seat of the patrol car. His partner already sits behind the wheel, and the engine idles. They pull out of the parking lot with screeching tires.

She missed the opportunity to help the dog. "Guess you remain free tonight, buddy. Although, I'm not convinced I did you a favour."

Before the patrol's rear lights are out of sight, the fading illumination of the rest area announces another shift.