His supervisor called him motivated.
His partner called him a bloodhound.
Tyler liked that.
He had also developed a habit he did not recognize yet.
Once impairment entered his mind, every fact became either proof or deception.
Maya’s badge?
Access to medication.
Her exhaustion?
Impaired condition.
Her decision to pull over?
Admission she was unsafe.
Her 0.000 breath test?
Possible drug impairment.
Her irritation?
Defensiveness.
Her slow speech?
Intoxication.
Her poor balance?
Field-test failure.
There was always another explanation that kept the first conclusion alive.
Maya asked:
“Can I call my supervisor?”
“Why?”
“To confirm my shift.”
“I don’t need your supervisor to tell me what I’m seeing.”
She stared.
That sentence mattered later too.
“Then call the hospital.”
“For what?”
“To confirm I just worked seventeen hours.”
“That still means you were driving while impaired by fatigue.”
Maya paused.
“Yes.”
Tyler seemed surprised.
She continued.
“For eight minutes.”
“Then I recognized it.”
“And stopped.”
“Do you want me to lie and say I was perfectly alert?”
“No.”
“Then what are we doing?”
Tyler looked at her.
He had no clean answer.
So he returned to procedure.
“Turn around.”
Maya froze.
“Why?”
“I’m placing you under arrest on suspicion of impaired operation.”
For several seconds she believed she had misheard him.
Then:
“You’re arresting me?”
“Yes.”
“For sleeping?”
“For operating a vehicle while impaired.”
“You never saw me operate this vehicle.”
“A caller found you behind the wheel.”
“Parked.”
“You admitted driving.”
“Before I pulled over.”
“Maya?”
A new voice cut across the parking lot.
Both turned.
A second police cruiser had arrived.
Sergeant Denise Holloway stepped out.
Forty-six.
Black.
Sixteen years with the department.
Tyler had requested no backup.
She had come because dispatch noticed his stop had remained active for more than twenty minutes and his status changed from welfare check to suspected impaired driver.
Denise approached.
Then stopped.
She recognized Maya.
Not personally.
Professionally.
“Charge Nurse Thompson?”
Maya looked at her.
“Yes.”
Denise had been inside St. Catherine’s emergency department three times that year accompanying injured officers and once with her own mother.
She remembered Maya’s face.
Tyler immediately felt the balance of the scene change.
He hated that he noticed.
Denise looked toward him.
“What’ve we got?”
“Possible drug impairment.”
Maya laughed bitterly.
Denise looked toward her.
“Let him explain.”
Tyler summarized.
Caller found her unresponsive.
Groggy on waking.
Red eyes.