Welcome to Eastland
Population: 944
Next to it was a strange piece of metal art. Like the skeleton you’d find in a biology classroom, but made of rusted metal, all twisted and warped. It gave me the creeps as I drove past.
I hadn’t been single in a long time. Scott and I dated through college and then moved to Savannah after graduating. We started a business together, lived together, and worked together day-in and day-out on the food truck. I didn’t know what to do with myself now that I was single.
I never thought I’d be so co-dependent, I thought.
Having a supportive family helped. No matter whatever happened, they’d be on my side and help me get back on my feet. And God help Scott if he tried crawling back to me. Momma would beat him senseless with a rolling pin if he showed his face within a mile of our house.
I was starting to feel better about my situation when police lights flashed in my rear-view mirror.
The sudden lights caused me to jerk the wheel before steadying out. The small road had a sizable shoulder, so I pulled over and prayed he was just flashing his lights so he could pass.
No such luck. He pulled onto the shoulder behind me and stopped his car.
“Crap. Crapola!” I cursed. Then, realizing I was alone and nobody could scold me, I muttered, “Shit.” The satisfaction only lasted a few seconds.
I grabbed my car registration out of the glove box and pulled my license from my purse, then held them both on the steering wheel. The rain hammered the roof of my car while I waited, my vision filled with alternating red and blue light.
Everything’s fine, I told myself.He’s probably just making sure I’m okay.
It took the officer a while to get out of his car. He wore a long rain jacket, slick and shiny with moisture. When he reached my car he shone a bright flashlight through my window, temporarily blinding me.
Tap tap tap, went his knuckle on the window.
I rolled it down and ignored the rain that immediately blew inside. “Hello, officer—”
“License and registration, ma’am,” he said in a thick Georgia drawl.
I shoved the waiting documents in his direction. He shone the flashlight on them but made no attempt to take them from me. If anything, he seemed annoyed that I had them ready. The cone of his flashlight swept to the backpack on the passenger seat, then at the three suitcases in the back.
“Going somewhere?” he drawled.
“Yes, sir. Home to Atlanta. Well, a little town south of Atlanta, but no one’s ever heard of it so we always just tell people Atlanta to make it easy.”
The rain pattered on his jacket. “You picked a heck of a night to do it.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, since I hadn’t really picked the night at all. “Can’t choose the weather,” I said with a hopeful smile.
His head whipped toward me. “Excuse me?”
“I—I was making a joke. Sorry, officer.”
“You in a hurry?” He demanded. His entire demeanor was suddenly hostile.
“No sir—”
“Then why are you on my road on a night like this, driving like the devil’s chasing you?”
I frowned. I knew I had slowed down when I exited the highway. If anything, thanks to the crazy rain, I’d been drivingunderthe speed limit.
But this cop looked like he was upset at having to work on a night like tonight, so I chose my words carefully.
“Officer, I’m certain I wasn’t going above—”
“Step out of the vehicle,” he ordered.