I just got the headlight fixed and took the receipt and the ticket to the courthouse, like he said to. The girl behind the glass took them, snapping her gum and tapping the keyboard with the longest fingernails I’d ever seen.

"When did you get this ticket?" She frowned at her screen.

"Last week," I said, remembering. "Monday morning."

She shook her head, clacking away again at the keys with her nails. I watched her, remembering the way he turned me, pulled me, gripped me, forced me. I could still feel the handcuffs biting into my wrists. The thought made me feel faint.

"I'm sorry." She slipped the ticket and receipt back out to me. "I'm afraid this ticket isn't in our system."

"Wh-What?" I took the papers back, blinking at her. "But I have the ticket, look, from Officer Ryan…Ryan Biggs…it says right here."

She shrugged, snapping her gum again. "The only Ryan Biggs in our system died fifteen years ago."

I felt the blood drain out of my face as I crumpled the papers back into my purse. I mumbled a confused, "Thank you," and turned to go.

"Do you…" I stopped and looked back to her. "How did he die?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea."

A dark-haired woman who had been filing papers behind her looked up from her desk, pushing her glasses up. "Ryan Biggs was killed in the line of duty."

The gum-snapping girl looked at her. "You knew him?"

"He was killed on a routine traffic stop out on Cherry Hill Road," she said. "Some woman shot him. They never found a motive."

I saw my own stunned reflection in the glass as I stared at her. I was remembering what had happened early Monday morning between Officer Biggs and me out there in the dark on the dirt pavement of Cherry Hill Road.