Yeah, not bad at all. $250,000 to split in half, the drugs to the third member of the team, free and easy. He was spending the money in his head, so he didn’t notice the police car behind him. He did see the two cars nosed into the road in ahead though, but wasn’t worried about that, there was nothing to connect him to the shooting back at the parking area. He slowed as he approached the two cars, glanced in his rear-view mirror, as everyone does when they hit the brakes, and had his first taste of fear.
Can’t be for me, he thought, must be a coincidence.
He let the truck glide to a stop on his side of the road, taking in the scene before him. Four officers, one of them holding the leash of what had to be a drug sniffing dog. They were tense, seemingly expecting a fight.
Ransom lowered the drivers side window with his left hand while leaving his right hand on the top of the steering wheel where the officers could see it. He had learned this long ago, keeping your hands in sight helps the officer relax during a routine stop. When the window was down he added his left hand to the top of the steering wheel. Ransom had expected to see the other police car pull out and around him so he was surprised when the first officer to address him did so from behind.
“Please turn the vehicle off and step out, sir,” the officer called.
Ransom looked in his side mirror and saw the officer that had addressed him, he was standing behind the truck, in a posture that allowed Ransom to know there was a weapon in play. Keeping his left hand on the wheel, he reached for the keys in the ignition with his right, all the while the fear was growing. When the truck stopped running he very slowly exited, he did not want to get shot, not now, not when he had $125,000 to spend.
“Lay on the ground with your hands and legs spread,” the same officer ordered.
Now Ransom was truly scared. This was not a routine stop, this was not a simple road-block to question all comers. It was as he was laying down and spreading his legs when he realized that he had not seen another car in either direction, none had passed him as he drove toward town, and none had pulled up behind the police car. He laid his cheek on the asphalt which still held the heat of the day, closed his eyes, and began to wonder what had gone wrong.
He barely heard the cop explain his rights, only half grasped the ramifications of the Hello Kitty bag the dog had found in the back of his truck, and just could not register the appearance of an automatic weapon from behind his passenger seat.
“Where’s the money?” a police officer was continually asking him, using different words, different tones, but always the same question, “Where’s the money.”
Ransom couldn’t bring himself to tell the officers where he had put it, mostly because he knew it wouldn’t be there anymore, but also because he wasn’t 100% sure it was Joe who set him up. Even as he was placed in the back of the patrol car that had idled behind his truck this whole time, Ransom wouldn’t tell them where the money was, always the optimist, expecting it to be there when he got out of prison.