I looked up the highway toward the city glow. The traffic was clotting up near the 670 interchange. A wreck on the scanner earlier. Even at the speed limit, with the construction lanes pinched down to nothing, he was forty minutes out. Forty minutes might as well be forty years when you’re racing a beeping monitor.
I slammed the ticket book shut and shoved it back in my pocket.
“Mr. Harper.”
He flinched like he was expecting the worst.“Don’t lose my bumper,” I said, my voice low and hard. “You see these lights flash blue, you stay glued to ’em. You hear me? You don’t stop for red. You don’t stop for traffic. You stay on my six until you see the Emergency Room sign. That’s an order.”
His mouth opened. Nothing came out but a shaky breath that fogged the cold air.
