Triple Digits

Claire Miles

"You could have killed her, not to mention countless innocents, had they been on the road! What the devil were you thinking, boy?!" Claire winced at the loud voice of an elderly man in the room, unable to stop the groan of pain that escaped her lips, the voices quieting before someone rushed to her side, a familiar voice frantically questioning, "Miss Miles, how are you feeling?"
"Like I hit a spike strip at one-hundred-and-fifty..." She groaned, reaching up and brushing her fingertips against her forehead, where she could feel a lump and a gash that was packed in with gauze.
The rest of her body felt like it had been put through a mincer, peeling back the hospital sheets to gape at the mess of gauze and bandages, including a cast on her left hand.
No, she couldn't have broken her wrist! She had a race tonight!
"I am so incredibly sorry, Miss Miles. My actions today caused you a great deal of suffering, and put the entire region, including you, at risk-" Corey Strickland began, almost stammering through his apology, her aching eyes locked onto his pale face. So he had put the spike strips down.
"The Mid-City Police Department will be investigating this," the elderly gentleman she had heard earlier said, approaching from where he had been standing on the other side of the room, "And Officer Corey Strickland will be temporarily suspended until further notice. If you would like to press charges against Mr. Strickland-"
"No," she choked out, her throat drier than the desert, "No charges. I was the one breaking the law." It was stupid of her to admit, but it wasn't like Strickland hadn't been recording. She had seen his dashcam blinking.
Corey's shoulders slumped in relief, and she knew why- a charge like that could have ended his career instantly. With a suspension so early on, there was still a great chance of that. Seeing as though it were her fault he was even in this position, she felt like she had some sort of responsibility to try and clear his name, her voice becoming more hoarse by the second as she added, "Um... Mr...?"
The gentleman nodded, saying, "."
"Mr. Dunfield, I would just like to say that I don't believe Mr. Strickland should be suspended. He was doing his job, Sir."
Bowing his head to her, Gregory Dunfield assured, "I will certainly take your suggestion into consideration, Miss Miles. As of now, Mr. Strickland has a choice to make. Considering the extent of your injuries, he can either foot the cost of your medical bills, or-" Strickland's face paled so quickly Claire wondered if he was about to keel over, the police force obviously not paying well enough to give him the luxury to afford to pay her bills. It didn't matter. Claire had plenty of wealth to her name. Certainly enough to pay the bills of the hospital.
"Whatever the second option is, I am sure Mr. Strickland and I would rather take it. I can pay for my own medical bills."
"You will require a carer to monitor you for the first week, since you had a significant head injury. Considering Mr. Strickland caused your injuries, I believe he should be the one to monitor you, if you are comfortable with that, Miss Miles?"
"Is Mr. Strickland comfortable with that?" She questioned curiously, Strickland looking as though he had been shot with a bullet.
He sat down heavily, looking helpless enough that Claire suggested gently, "How about we all think about it for a while? I am sure Mr. Strickland feels plenty of unnecessary guilt over what happened. I had been goading him into racing for months now, Sir. It's my fault, so if anyone should be getting charged or fined or suspended, it's me."
"Your license has already been suspended, Miss Miles. As for charges... You were not officially arrested by Mr. Strickland here, and since he has been suspended-"
"Yo, Claire-Bear! What the Hell happened to you?!" Maddy exclaimed excitedly from the door, her phone already out and recording, "The infamous Claire Miles crashes on some back-street ditch and says nothing about it to her besties? We had to hear about the crash from the university! How are you feeling, girly?!"
"Up until now," Strickland began, "Miss Miles has been unconscious. You should leave."
"No, it's fine," Claire assured weakly with a small smile to her friend, sitting up in the bed, lifting her broken wrist, Maddy's face falling as she gasped, "No! Claire-Bear, you have a race tonight, girly! You cannot miss it! They would have your head for it!"
"My car is wrecked," she said at the same time Dunfield hissed in disappointment, "Need I remind anyone that street-racing is illegal, and the police are currently on the hunt for Triple Digit? There will be no street-racing, wrecked car or not, because it is a crime. After your crash tonight, Miss Miles, I would have hoped you would be more sensible going forward."
"Pays the bills, Sir," Maddy said with a shrug, "Claire rakes in thousands each week." Compared to the almost five-hundred she got from working her job at the university café, it was life-saving.
"Triple Digit's tag is neon green," Strickland said quietly, like he was lost in some sort of coma, Claire glancing nervously to him at the same time Maddy let out a nervous, high-pitched laugh, singing, "Obviously, silly! The tags are everywhere!"
Had Strickland seen the cannister of spraypaint in her car, then? He must have, if he had been the one to pull her from the wreckage.
Was he going to say anything about it? A discovery like that would save his career.
For Claire, it was nerve-wrecking. Being charged as a low-down, nobody street-racer was one thing. Being charged as Triple Digit was something entirely different- Police had a thirty-thousand dollar bounty on her head. She could spend up to ten years in jail!
Strickland didn't seem with it enough to point it out more than that, Dunfield watching him curiously, sighing, "Strickland, outside for a minute, please."
They left, Corey's eyes hollowed out, Maddy taking a seat on the edge of Claire's bed, the mattress dipping beneath her, her bestfriend taking her one good hand left, dipping her chin to the door and whispering, "That the cop you go on about?"
Claire nodded, looking to the door, nervously watching to see if it would open. What even was the time? She couldn't see the clock from her position on the bed, and the curtains were closed. And she didn't go on about him! She had mentioned him once or twice, whenever she boasted about her speed! That was all!
"What's the time?"
"Around six. I was heading home and decided to come see where you were, because of the race. It starts at one, Claire."
One AM. That gave her seven hours to convince a nurse to get her out of here, find a car that was suitable, and then get to the race location.
An almost impossible task, especially if Strickland was ordered to monitor her at home. A bit of an uncouth order, and not one that would work in a city larger than Mid-City, but here everyone knew each other, and responsibility was a big thing. If Dunfield believed it was Corey's fault that she was hurt, then it was his responsibility to take care of her until she was better.
Dunfield and Strickland didn't return for ten minutes, leaving Claire and Maddy alone in the room to plot. If they wanted to get out and find a car to enter the race with, they would have to move quickly. Claire knew Maddy was right- the people who came to watch Triple Digit race had paid for this event, and if she wasn't there, there were certainly people smart enough to put the pieces together.
After all, the news that Claire Miles had crashed would have rocketed through the small town at lightning speed, so if Triple Digit didn't show for a race, when she always showed, it was obvious; Claire Miles was Triple Digit.
There were plenty of lesser street-racers who would utilise that knowledge and turn Claire in, both for the thirty thousand dollar bounty, and to eliminate her from the game.
Leaning back in her bed, she sighed, "What do I do? I don't even have a car..."
"Borrow a car," Maddy urged, "That cop friend of yours owes you a favour, especially if he's going to dip on paying your medical bills. I know you're rich, Claire-Bear, but are you two-hundred-thousand-just-laying-around rich?"
"It's a police car, Maddy!" She replied incredulously, raising a pained eyebrow, feeling the gauze on her forehead shift. Could Maddy choose a more obvious car?!
"And a fast one! Strickland almost had you today! Imagine how wild TD would look if she rocked up in a police car? The crowd would go insane!"
"Strickland won't lend me his car, Maddy! Think of a different idea!" Before Maddy could argue with her further, worsening the headache that was beginning to strengthen behind her brow, Dunfield and Strickland entered the room again, the former looking smug, the latter disturbed.
"I have taken your words into consideration, Miss Miles, and have decided to extend Strickland my mercy. He may keep his job, and not be suspended, on two conditions. You both must agree to them."
"And they are?" Maddy asked in a too-sweet voice, nudging Claire's leg where it rested under the blanket, seeing a way in with the police officer and his car.
"Officer Strickland must complete a case within three months for me if he wishes to keep his job, and he must visit you daily during those three months to ensure your recovery is going well."
"What case?"
"He has to locate Triple Digit, and put the criminal behind bars. The bounty will be put towards repairing the damage done by today's escapades."
"Daily?" Maddy gaped, her jaw dropping, "Claire works most days!"
"Then Officer Strickland will have to reside at her residence. Seeing as the two of you are obviously street-racers, perhaps you can both assist Mr. Strickland? After all, Miss Miles, you could be charged with reckless driving and endangerment today, not to mention excessive speeds on the road. If you would like to avoid these charges-"
"I'll help Strickland," she offered up immediately. Jail in her condition didn't seem particularly appealing, Maddy nodding frantically, the two of them looking to Strickland, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, muttering, "In all due respect, Sir-"
"If you want your job to be waiting for you at the end of the three months, Strickland, then you will follow my orders. Remain with Miss Miles for three months, and arrest Triple Digit." With that, Dunfield left, the three of them staring at each other, unsure what to say.
Three months of trying her damned best to avoid bringing Strickland's attention to the fact that she was Triple Digit...
Suddenly, jail was looking a whole lot more appealing.