Ohio wants extradition. Active warrant, fully extraditable within a 500-mile radius. We’re within range.” Miller nodded. He reached for his belt. “Brenda Miller,” Officer Miller said, “or Kowalski, I’m going to need you to turn around and place your hands behind your back.” The moment was surreal. I watched as the handcuffs came out. The metal glinted in the sunlight. “No,” Brenda shouted. She swatted at Miller’s hand. Big mistake. “Ma’am, do not resist,” Miller barked. In one smooth motion, he spun her around and pinned her wrists. “Assault,” Brenda screamed. “Police brutality, help, neighbors, help.” Mrs. Higgins, the lady with the poodle, was standing on her lawn three houses down. She watched Brenda screaming. Then, Mrs. Higgins took a sip of her coffee and went back inside. “You have the right to remain silent,” Miller recited as the cuffs clicked shut. Click, click, the sweetest sound I had ever heard. “I will sue you,” Brenda wailed as they walked her toward the car. “I will sue this entire city.
I will have your badges, Jason. I will take your house. I will burn that deck down.” “Anything you say can and will be used against you,” Miller continued, unbothered. He opened the back door of the cruiser. He guided her in. She had to duck her head to fit the visor inside. The door slammed shut. The silence that followed was heavy, profound, and absolutely delicious. Miller walked back over to me. He handed me the folder. “We’ll keep a copy of the warrants,” he said. “You can have this back.” “Thanks, officer.” Miller looked at the lemonade stand. He looked at the pitcher. “Is that actually lemonade?” he asked. “Fresh squeezed,” I said, “with a hint of mint.” Miller looked at his partner, then back at me. “It’s a hot day, and we have a lot of paperwork to do before we transport her.” “On the house,” I said, “for the boys in blue.” I poured two cups. Miller took one. His partner took the other. Big Mike raised his red cup. “To neighborhood safety.” Miller took a long drink. He lowered the cup and wiped his mustache. “That is damn good lemonade, Mr. Bennett.” “Try to keep the noise down,” Miller added.
But there was a twinkle in his eye. “We don’t want any more complaints.” “I think the complaints are going to drop significantly after today,” I said. Miller chuckled. He walked back to his car. I saw Brenda in the backseat. She was still screaming, but the glass was thick. I couldn’t hear a thing. She was pounding on the window. I lifted my cup to her. A silent toast. “Cheers, Brenda.” The cruisers drove away, taking the noise, the drama, and the HOA president with them. I looked at Big Mike. He was beaming. “Did we just win?” Mike asked. “We didn’t just win,” I said, taking a sip of the lemonade. It tasted like victory. “We loitered our way to justice.” “What now?” Mike asked. I looked at my beautiful, empty street. I looked at my magnificent cedar deck. I looked at the rocking chair waiting for me behind the privacy screen. “Now,” I said, “I finish my book.”
