Read Online Taking It by Michael Cadnum - Free Book Online

are all these boxes?” I asked, to change the subject.
    â€œCameras, binoculars. Computer displays.” His tone said: You know very well what these things are.
    â€œYou have to know how everything works, right? How to hook up the tab to the slot.” If I’d had gum in my mouth I would have blown a bubble and popped it at him, acting dumb and having fun.
    He stepped across the concrete floor until he had me by the arm, gently. He walked me to the sliding door, open just wide enough for a person to slip through.
    I hurt him a little with the door, tugged it shut just a little as he was about to kiss me on my cheek or my ear, whatever he could get his mouth on.
    â€œGod, Anna, watch out,” he said, rubbing his elbow. “You just about broke my arm.”
    I gave him a bored look: Hey, what’s an arm.
    But Stu didn’t laugh, following behind me, leaning on the car to look at me when I sat at the steering wheel. He was about to say something serious. “Are you okay?” he asked finally.
    â€œWhy? Do I look weird?” I realized that maybe I had been looking for a job in the back of my mind, hoping that Stu would hand me an application or at least introduce me to someone.
    He glanced away, trying to give me a truthful answer.
    â€œYou have burrito on your mouth,” I said.
    It wasn’t true.
    Driving up Sacramento Street, I pulled over to the side, the brakes whining. Traffic flowed by. I was cold, sick, sure of something bad.
    I couldn’t bring myself to look in my purse. I knew what I would find there.
    Don’t look in the purse .
    My heart skipped. A police car was there in the rearview, a policeman walking up to me in the side mirror. That meant I would need my driver’s license. It was in the purse, where I didn’t want to look. Or maybe this was why the police were here. Stu had called them.
    The policeman was right outside, tan uniform and dark glasses, a bright brass star, BERKELEY POLICE . I rolled the window down as far as I could, which wasn’t far. I could feel the pulse in my throat.
    I had tried to lie to myself. I had told myself I was going to have a perfectly normal day.
    I couldn’t remember taking them, but I knew: There was a new pair of Pentax binoculars in the purse.

15
    I tried to open the car door, shoving hard. It stuck, and it took all my strength.
    The policeman helped, pulling from his side. He was smiling, one of those officers trying to give the police a good name. He had a nice smile, and a short mustache, a V of white T-shirt showing at his collar. “Just checking to make sure you’re okay,” he said.
    â€œIs there anything wrong?” I asked.
    His partner loomed behind the car, hands on his hips. “You pulled over so suddenly,” said the smiling cop.
    â€œSuddenly?” I echoed. Be careful, I warned myself. You sound stupid. Worse than that—you sound frightened. You sound guilty.
    â€œA little erratically,” he said.
    Police are visitors from another galaxy, a galaxy where no one forgets. Computers store the names of people who have done wrong. Cops know things just by looking. I felt color seep from my clothes, from my body. I was transparent. This man could see into me, and see the unsteady, nervous creature that lived inside me.
    I was taking too long to say something reassuring, standing there blinking in the bland afternoon sunlight. My best hope was that I would appear abashed, flustered. Cars were slowing down, passengers taking a look.
    Everything imaginable seemed to be hanging from his belt. A billy club with an extra handle sticking out of the side, keys, handcuffs, and other things I couldn’t see from the front. And, of course, a handgun.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I said at last. I kept my voice soft, nice. I reassured myself that I wasn’t in trouble. Not yet. “I thought I forgot something,” I said. “I’m not quite used to driving this