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camera to the ground, and Jimmy keeps an eye on the woman while I cuff her camera man. I cuff her and we put them both in the back of my Tahoe, then lock their stuff in their van.
    “Radio Chief. See if he wants this impounded,” I tell Jimmy. He nods and heads back to his car. I get in with these two.
    “You can’t do this,” the woman says, sharply.
    “Okay, listen up. You have the right to remain silent…” I want to get smartass about reciting Miranda to them, but I keep it by the book. It’s all being recorded.
    Jimmy comes up and leans on my windowsill. “Yeah, he called up Joe’s. They’re on their way out now. I’ll sit here with the property and follow him back to the impound lot.”
    “Thanks, Jim.” I give him a curt nod. He nods back, and I see a hint of a smile on his face when he turns away.
    Jim is the only one I know isn’t mocking me. When he smiles in my presence, we’re sharing genuine humor. I like that about him.
    He was the one who made me want to do this in the first place, even if I had other plans originally.
    The drive to the station is short. The paperwork, however, is not. I call my sister, Grace, on my lunch break.
    “Hey,” she answers.
    “Hey. I need a favor.”
    She sighs. “Pick Carrie up and watch her, yeah.”
    “Yeah.”
    “I got it. I’ll see you after work.”
    “Thanks, Gee.”
    “You got it, Feebs.”
    I can’t rely on her forever. She’s going to be moving away, sooner or later.
    I sigh and get back to work on the write-up. I swear it takes longer to describe something than the amount of time it took to actually happen.
    The reporters give me a forlorn look as I pass by the holding cell with the paperwork.
    “This is a gross violation of our first amendment rights,” the woman shouts.
    I let it roll down my back and submit my work to the boss.
    “You realize we have to let them go,” Bill says without even reading the write-up.
    “Yeah.”
    “Mayor’s going to crawl up my ass and lay eggs over this. He’s already pissed at you and that judge.”
    “Tell him to be pissed at Wright. He’s the one who was speeding.”
    He waves his hand dismissively. “Can we skip the Dirty Harry routine today, sugar? We’ve all got work to do. If you think this counts as giving out tickets, you’ve got another thing coming.”
    I huff.
    “Don’t get all petulant with me with your soft rosebud lips.”
    I look past my boss at the shelf next to his desk. The chief of the Sylvester Police Department reads romance novels. In paperback. And keeps them on a shelf in his office. He buys a dozen at a time at the used bookstore and there’s a Sylvia Day novel sitting on his desk right now. It’s seen better times.
    “Chief, I couldn’t do my job with these idiots sitting in front of me.”
    He turns to face me. “Maybe you shouldn’t have arrested an internationally famous football star then. Did you think of that, Phoebe?”
    It grates on me when he uses my first name. He calls everyone else by their last name. Only I get the first name treatment.
    “What was I supposed to do, let him go? He should be in jail, not moving in next door to me.”
    His eyebrows rise. “What?”
    “Yeah, the dickhead rented the house next to mine. He’ll probably start harassing me now. I was doing the right thing.”
    “I know, I know,” he says in his “humoring you” tone. “Equal justice under the law and all that. At least it was a big fine. I should give you a sticker.”
    My colleague Howard once demanded an award for bringing in what he called a huge collar, that is, intercepting an old Subaru with a pound of weed in the trunk. The boss bought a sheet of stickers at the dollar store and put a gold star on Howard’s badge. Howard was not amused.
    He would do the same, now, but I think he’s afraid I’ll sue him if he touches my chest.
    “Right. I’m off shift in a couple hours, or did you want me to put in overtime on traffic?”
    “Nah, finish up with the due