she could tell by the uniform. Not a state trooper, not a Lolo city cop. He raised a microphone to his mouth, spoke briefly to someone, and reached onto the passenger seat for his jacket and hat.
Then he walked out of the angle of her rearview mirror as he got out.
She shifted her eyes to her side mirror as he closed his car door and approached. When his belt buckle filled the glass, she turned her head toward him and slowly reached down for the button to lower her window.
Cassie was blinded by his Maglite beam aimed squarely into her face.
“That flashlight wasn’t necessary, Officer,” she said as she looked away.
“It was if I wanted to see your eyes,” he said. “They look kind of glassy and unfocused to me.”
“They aren’t.”
“Here’s what you need to do for me,” he said. “You need to keep your hands on the wheel where I can see them. Do not make any sudden moves unless I ask you to do so.” She thought, Uh-oh, one of those. But she complied with his order. All she could see were two bright orange orbs from the beam. She tried to keep her anger in check.
“I saw you drift across the center line back there,” he said. “Have you been drinking?”
“I think you might be mistaken, Officer. I’ve been driving very carefully.” She kept her voice neutral and measured. “I had one glass of wine at the Hayloft. One.”
“It’s usually two,” he said. “Most folks say they only had two. Two can equal two or it can equal ten.”
“Well, I had one.”
“Are you under the influence of any other substances?” the cop asked. “Maybe prescription meds?”
“No.”
“Then why were you weaving all over the road, ma’am?”
“I don’t believe I was, Officer.”
“Then I’m sure you wouldn’t object to a Breathalyzer test.”
“Correct,” she said. “I wouldn’t object at all.”
Cassie knew she had the right to refuse to take the test because taking it was implied consent. But she also knew that refusal could result in additional charges and consequences such as suspension of her driver’s license or possible arrest. Plus, she knew she wasn’t inebriated or driving recklessly.
Her vision had finally been restored and she took him in. He was from Lochsa County, all right. His name badge said bryan “alf” grzegorczyk.
She asked, “How do I pronounce your name, Officer?”
“Why is that important?” he asked. “Do you plan to contest this?”
“No, sir. It’s just an unusual name.”
He said, “Greg-or-check. My buddies in the service couldn’t pronounce my name so they called me ‘Alf’ like in ‘alphabet.’ It’s Czech.”
“So I gathered.”
“Now that we’ve cleared that up,” he said, “I need you to stay there and don’t move. Keep your hands on the wheel at all times where I can see them.”
“Yes, sir.” She knew that some of the sarcasm she’d tried to hold in check had leaked out.
He paused on his way to his car. “What was that?”
“I said, ‘Yes, sir.’ I don’t object to a Breathalyzer test.”
“In the meantime, I need you to get out of your car. Let’s see you walk a straight line.”
“ Really?”
“Do I need to repeat myself? Are you having trouble responding to my requests?”
She knew the tactic. Claim the citizen pulled over didn’t comply with official police instructions. Then build from there.
“I’m getting out,” she said as she opened her door.
Deputy Grzegorczyk stood near his driver’s-side door with his hands on his hips.
“Walk toward me.”
She did. She placed one foot in front of the other and she fought the urge to look down at her shoes. A pickup coming from Lolo slowed on the highway as it passed and she saw the driver and his elderly wife looking at her with big eyes. It was humiliating.
As she neared him the officer suddenly shot out his hand. “Stop.”
She instinctively stepped back.
“Little wobbly there,” he said.
“I didn’t want your hand in my face.”
“Right,” he said with a mocking tone.
“Look, Deputy Grzegorczyk,” Cassie said, “I used to be a cop myself. I know how these things work. You can claim I was weaving down the road and you can claim I couldn’t walk a straight line, but neither is true. I can dispute it, but it’s your word against mine. I’m trying to cooperate in every way. So, let’s cut the crap and give me the test so I can be on my way.”
“You used to be a cop, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Then you should know you shouldn’t drink and drive,” he said with a smirk. “And you know you shouldn’t