“Yeah, seatbelt,” he responded. He let the gun and badge slip to the floor mat, reaching over his shoulder to grab the buckle. As soon as it clicked home, she stood on the brake pedal and lurched the wheel to the left.

The Galaxie was a fine automotive specimen. Despite years of use for family picnics and sending kids off to college in, it had power and it had balance. Not surprisingly, then, its rear end whipped around easily in a screaming cloud of worn rubber smoke.

“The hell?” he gasped.

“Saw this in a movie,” she leered, pinning the accelerator to the floor. Two black-and-whites were heading straight for them in a fury of light and sound.

He didn’t have much time to think. He did have time, however, to watch the slow motion ballet of two cop cars diverting around the Galaxie’s hood, leaving enough room for one to shoot right past his window and nick the mirror. Once the commotion of the moment had passed, he was better able to hear his own squealing.

She eyed him quizzically. “Seriously?”