Then Grace asked whether he wanted to take another route.
Isaiah considered it.
He could.
There were other roads.
Other ways to reach Mobile.
And no practical reason to return to County Road 44.
But he also knew he'd spent months imagining the county as a place he needed to avoid.
He looked toward his daughter.
Then smiled gently.
"I think we're okay."
Grace nodded.
He continued driving.
The road looked almost exactly as it had on the afternoon of the stop.
Flat fields stretched toward the horizon.
Dry grass moved in the wind.
And the sunlight created pale reflections across the pavement.
Isaiah recognized the curve before the gravel shoulder.
Then the place where Cleary parked his patrol SUV.
For a moment, his hands tightened slightly around the steering wheel.
He remembered the sheriff approaching in mirrored aviator sunglasses.
The false speeding accusation.
The identification card bending between his fingers.
And the slap.
He could almost hear the sound again.
Then Grace spoke.
"Dad, are you okay?"
Isaiah looked toward her.
For a moment, he considered saying he was fine.
Instead, he nodded slowly.
"I'm remembering."
She reached across and rested her hand gently on his arm.
He smiled.
"Thank you."
He continued at a safe speed until he reached a suitable public stopping area farther down the road.
Then he pulled over.
The engine idled quietly.
For several seconds, they looked toward the fields.
Grace unfastened her seat belt after the truck was safely parked.
Then turned toward him.
"What are you thinking?"
Isaiah looked through the windshield.
For a moment, he remembered sitting in the back of Cleary's patrol SUV, unable to reach his family.
Then he thought about June Maddox.
Evan Holt.
Thomas Redd.
And Helena Ward.
People who had taken different actions, sometimes small and uncomfortable, to preserve the truth.
Finally, he answered.
"I'm thinking how different that day could've been if one man had been willing to check the facts."
Grace nodded.
Then asked something that made him smile.
"Do you still think about what you told him?"
Isaiah looked toward her.
"You shouldn't have done that?"
She nodded.
He laughed softly.
"Sometimes."
Grace smiled.
For a moment, he considered the words.
Then he looked toward the road.
"Back then, I was talking about the card."
His daughter waited.
Isaiah continued.
"Now I think about all the people who could've been hurt because somebody decided the rules didn't apply to him."
Grace looked toward the horizon.
For several seconds, she remained quiet.
Then she asked whether he regretted cooperating with the federal investigators.
Isaiah shook his head.