DESPERATE

37

The tall figure of the uniformed officer stood by the car, signaling for the window to be opened. Kenzo, feeling a bit nervous, rolled down the window. He greeted the officer, asking with concern, "Good evening, officer. Is everything alright?”

The officer turned on his flashlight without a word, casting a bright beam on them. They blinked against the intense light.

He spoke firmly, "License and registration, please."

Kenzo presented his documents to the officer, while Cyrie, feeling a mix of confusion and concern, leaned in from the backseat. "What's the matter, officer?"

The officer, focused on his task, examined Kenzo's license with a hint of suspicion, ignoring her.

"Why did you stop here?" he demanded.

Kenzo replied, “Our friend got a bit sick, needed to get some air, and went for a short walk. We’re just waiting for him.”

The officer collected the papers and walked back to his patrol car. Kenzo and Cyrie exchanged worried glances.

Cyrie's voice was a hushed murmur, barely audible over the hum of the idling engine. "What does he want?" she whispered, her eyes fixed on the rearview mirror.

"I'm not sure," Kenzo replied, keeping his tone even. "Maybe he's suspicious because we're just sitting here, not moving."

"But we're allowed to park here," Cyrie countered, a note of defensiveness creeping into her whisper.

"Yes, just stay calm. It'll be okay,” he reassured her.

They waited in the car, the time seeming to stretch on endlessly. The officer returned with a serious expression.

"Sir, you and your friend need to get out and stand by the car," he instructed sternly.

Kenzo's heart raced, his thoughts a tumult of confusion and fear. "What? Why? We didn't do anything!" he protested, his voice tinged with a rising panic.

The officer raised his voice, "Sir, follow my instructions. Get out and stand by the car. Now."

Kenzo knew they had no choice but to comply.

They got out of the car, feeling nervous, and stood next to the trunk. The officer watched them, his gun in its holder.

Cyrie spoke up, her voice steady but filled with concern, "Officer, please, we haven't done anything wrong.”

The officer regarded them with an impassive gaze. "The car is reported stolen," he stated.

Cyrie felt anxious about the idea of being punished for a crime she didn't commit. "Officer, is it possible there's been a mistake?" she questioned. "It looked like you had trouble reading the papers," she added, sounding concerned.

"What are you talking about?" the officer shot back, hiding his worry. He had always kept his poor eyesight a secret. The young woman’s keen perception unnerved him. A flicker of doubt crossed his mind—had he slipped up? Being new to the job, he was anxious to make his first arrest but terrified of making a rookie mistake. "Alright, stay put, and don't even think about running. You can't outrun a bullet,” he replied, a hint of caution in his tone as he tapped the holster at his hip. He turned on his heel, heading back to his patrol car to double-check the details.

Cyrie's voice trembled with a mix of anger and fear as she confronted Kenzo, "You're aware this car was stolen, aren't you? Don't lie to me." The thought of being trapped behind bars was her worst nightmare.

Kenzo's response was sharp and defensive, "Honestly, I had no clue. This isn't my car; it's Todd's. I'm just the one driving it. Direct your anger at him, not me," he insisted. "Why are they taking so long? They should have been back by now." His frustration boiled over, and he thumped the trunk forcefully, uncaring if it alerted the nearby officer.