She yanks them off her ring and flings them. They skitter under my bumper. The younger officer fishes them out and drops them into a bag.
Delilah leans toward my window one more time, voice edged. “Do you think this changes anything? Go back to your little shack and your little lies.”
“For someone so certain,” I say, “you spend a lot of time chasing my taillights.”
Her mouth flattens.
The older officer taps my glass again, gentler. “Doctor, you’re free to go. We’ll need a statement; the dashcam covers most of it.”
“Understood.” I pass him my card. “Call this number.”
I close the window and check the boys. Elijah scrubs his eyes with the heel of his hand and tries to look fierce. Caleb threads his sticky fingers into mine. “Did we… get in trouble?”
“No,” I say. “You stood up. Then yo
