Page 67 of Declan
But the car kept weaving. Heart pounding, he closed the gap, and hit the siren, at last, the sedan hissed to a stop on the shoulder of the road. He angled his cruiser behind it, engaged the brake, and heard Tank bark once sharply from the back.
“Stay, boy,” Declan murmured, swinging his door open. He put on his hat and stepped out into the cold and onto the snow-covered gravel. The crunch echoed in the hush. The sedan’s driver-side door creaked open, and he froze, hand inches from his holstered weapon. A tall man stumbled out, Stephen Johnston, rumpled collar, eyes glassy. From the passenger seat a woman slipped free, her face ashen beneath the streetlight.
“Ma’am, please stay in the car,” Declan said, voice firm.
“I don’t want him driving me anywhere!” she nearly screamed, voice trembling.
“Trust me, he won’t be,” Declan replied, turning to Johnston. “License, registration, and proof of insurance.”
Johnston swayed, slurring, “It’s not my car.”
“I still need the information,” Declan snapped, tension coiling in his jaw. He watched Johnston lean back inside, retrieve the paperwork from the glovebox, and straighten with a crooked grin. He held the crumpled documents out. “Come get it, Deputy.”
Declan’s finger tapped the grip of his holstered weapon. “Bring it to me… slowly.”
Instead, Johnston slid back into the driver’s seat. Declan drew his pistol in one smooth motion, black metal gleaming under the flashing lights. He advanced; aim trained on Johnston. “Get out of the fucking car, Johnston. Now!”
Johnston’s laugh was thick with booze. “Oh, you’d love to shoot me, wouldn’t you, Cavanaugh?”
“Give me a fucking reason,” Declan’s voice was gravel. “If you try to leave, I promise it will not go well for you.” He clenched his teeth. “Get out of the vehicle or I’ll drag your ass out.”
Johnston’s hand drifted toward the door. In an instant Declan holstered his sidearm, seized Johnston’s upper arm, and wrenched him free from the vehicle. With a harsh tug he sent Johnston sprawling onto the gravel, rolled him face-down, straddled his back, and snapped steel handcuffs around his wrists. The click resonated in the still night.
Declan reached for his shoulder mic. “Dispatch, send backup—DUI in progress.”
“Let me up, you prick!” Johnston spat.
“How about a breathalyzer now, you son of a bitch?”
“I won’t take one and I will not allow you to take my blood,” Johnston slurred.
Declan hauled him upright and pressed him against the sedan’s rear fender. “Since you refuse to take a breathalyzer test,your license will be suspended, so hand them over now.” The cruiser’s lights bounced off his badge as he recited the Miranda warning. He watched as Johnston glanced around. Declan barked, “Do not eventhinkof running or I’ll have the dog run you down.” He glanced inside the car. “Ma’am, are you alright?”
She nodded, voice quavering. “Yes, thank you, Deputy. He scared the hell out of me.”
Declan nodded once, then looked back at Johnston. Under his breath Johnston sneered, “I’ll be out in no time.”
“We’ll see.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault Elise left you. I knew she would. If she had stayed with me—” Johnston smirked, making Declan walk to where he stood, and glare at him.
“If she had stayed with you, she’d probably be dead too. You’re drunk and driving. Are you trying to kill someone…again?”
Declan heard the woman gasp. “He killed someone?”
“Yes, while he’d been driving drunk. I’m telling you so you know not to get into a car with him again.”
“That’s a lie!” Johnston shouted. Declan leaned closer.
“It’s not a lie about you killing someone. You killed your wife! You got lucky the judge decided to give you just probation. If it had been up to me, your ass would be in a cell.”
“I know you were fucking my wife, Cavanaugh.”
“I was doing no such thing, and you know it. I know you told Elise about seeing me at your house and Dawn in a robe. That was a lie, and you fucking know it. Iwasthere to help her with a busted pipe because she couldn’t get in touch with you!” Declan grabbed him by his shirt and jerked him close. “Dawn was not in a robe, you lying piece of shit.” He pushed him against the car. “Now, sit in the car and just shut the fuck up. Let’s see how lenient the judge is this time.” Declan removed the keys from the ignition then nodded for Johnston to sit.
In the distance sirens answered his call, their wail rising and falling like a restless tide. A few minutes later Jack Lawrence’s cruiser rolled up, tires crunching the gravel. Jack stepped out, boots thudding, khaki shirt covered with his protective vest as he strode toward him beneath the glow of emergency lights. Declan relaxed slightly and offered his hand. Jack clasped it firmly, then he pulled Johnston out of the vehicle.
Jack guided Johnston to his feet and glanced at Declan. “Hell of a way to spend Thanksgiving, isn’t it? Did you already read him his rights?”
