“I had to drive like that!” Suzanne said, placing her hand over chest like she was having a heart attack. “That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. Didn’t you see that black pick-up truck back there?”

The deputy narrowed her eyes. “I ain’t seen no black pick-up. All I seen is your little red Corvette running people off the road and changing lanes erratically.”

“That’s because those dudes in the black pick-up were harassing me! They started to follow me right after I left the beach, getting right up on my ass—I’m sorry, I mean my bumper—and acting like they were going to ram me. Then they pulled alongside us and shouted obscenities at me and my friend, yelling out all sorts of nasty things about what they would like to do to our virgin bodies. I’ve never heard such vulgar language in my life. And it scared my friend here to death. Just look at her, she’s all shook up because of it.”

I figured this was when I was supposed to act like I was scared shitless. So I did the only thing I could think of—I gnawed on my fingernails like I was nervous.

“Uh-huh,” the officer said, not sounding convinced at all. “So did this black truck ever pass you?”

“No, I sped up really fast so I could get away from them,” Suzanne said. “That’s why I was driving like a maniac. I was afraid if I didn’t, they might try to run into me so I would have to stop. There’s no telling what they might have done to me and my friend if I’d given them the chance.”

A smirk spread across the deputy’s lips, a sure sign she wasn’t buying Suzanne’s story. “So what happened to the truck?” she asked, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

“I guess I must have lost them,” Suzanne said. “But I can give you a good description. It was a black Ford pick-up with damage to the front driver’s side. And it had a cracked windshield. And the license plate was … um … ASL8243567.”

“You saw the tag?” the deputy asked.

Suzanne nodded. “Yes ma’am. Plain as day.”