His expression tightened.
"I'm sorry."
I studied his face.
He was pale beneath the sun.
His hands trembled slightly.
"Then help me."
He nodded.
"I will."
I glanced toward Garrett.
"Can you safely remove these handcuffs?"
Miles looked toward his partner.
Then toward the highway.
"Yes."
He helped me turn carefully and began loosening the restraints.
The metal released pressure from my wrists.
Pain returned in a rush.
I gasped.
Miles stopped.
"Easy."
He removed the cuffs completely.
For a moment, I kept my arms close to my body.
My fingers tingled.
My shoulders ached.
And I felt suddenly, absurdly close to tears.
I had held myself together while Garrett dragged me from my car, pressed me into the pavement, and smashed thousands of dollars' worth of glass and bodywork. I had stayed calm while he threatened an unarmed witness. But the simple act of having those handcuffs removed nearly broke my composure.
Miles noticed.
"Do you want to sit in the shade?"
I looked toward the road.
There was almost no shade except beneath Ruth's porch.
"Yes."
He rose.
Then looked toward Garrett.
"I'm moving her away from the roadway and requesting medical evaluation."
Garrett snapped his head up.
"She's still detained."
Miles stood still.
"On what charge?"
Garrett stared.
Miles continued.
"Name the offense."
There was a long silence.
Then Garrett muttered, "Suspicion of vehicle theft."
"The registration confirms her ownership information. We have no theft report."
Garrett took a step toward him.
Miles didn't move.
"Then call a supervisor and explain the grounds for the detention."
For several seconds, I thought Garrett might strike him.
Instead, he turned away.
Miles offered me his arm.
I accepted.
We walked slowly toward the service-road fence.
Ruth hurried down from her porch as soon as she saw me moving.
"Baby, are you all right?"
I almost laughed.
I was thirty-five years old and had spent much of my adult life working dangerous investigations, but the concern in her voice reminded me of my mother.
"I'm hurt," I admitted. "But I'm standing."
Ruth opened the gate.
"Come sit down. I've got water."
Miles looked toward Garrett.
Then toward Ruth.
"I'll remain here until state police arrive."
Ruth studied him.
"You should've stopped that man sooner."
He lowered his eyes.
"Yes, ma'am."
Her expression softened only slightly.
"Then start making it right."
Miles nodded.
He helped me to a chair beneath the porch overhang, then stepped back.
Ruth brought a bottle of water and a clean towel.
I pressed the towel against my scraped shoulder.
For a few moments, I watched Garrett pacing beside the patrol SUV.
He was speaking on his phone again.
His gestures were sharp.
He kept glancing toward my vehicle.