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“And I appreciate it, but I don’t need to be cautioned on how to reply. I haven’t done anything wrong, other than to go through a yellow light.”
    The cop blew out a snort, with a thin smirk that was quickly followed by a cynical glare. Then he slowly stood up, shut the door, and went back over to his crew. A group of seven or eight of them conferred again for some time. Traffic was stopped in both directions; six or seven officers standing around, looking my way. I felt my heart race and I realized I may need someone to get me out of this situation. Who the hell could I call?
    A few minutes passed, and Martinez and the bald cop came back over. They slid into the front seat and looked at me through the glass.
    The next question got a lot more serious.
    â€œSir, when was the last time you were stopped by the Jacksonville police?” Martinez asked, staring into my eyes.
    Huh? I laughed a nervous, back-of-the-throat chortle. “Stopped by the police?” I uttered, my mouth completely dry . “ I’ve never been stopped by the police. Listen, I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but—”
    â€œYou’re saying you weren’t pulled over in downtown Jacksonville earlier this morning?” Martinez asked me again. “Around nine A.M . With a woman in this car?”
    I was shaken by the total seriousness in his eyes.
    â€œNo. No! I have no idea what you’re talking about. Nine A.M. I had just gotten off a plane! You can check my itinerary. I think it’s in my briefcase in the car. Or in the rental agreement. Look, I don’t know who the hell you guys think I am, but you’ve obviously mixed me up with . . .”
    Martinez removed his sunglasses. “Sir, what were you doing in a federal office building in downtown Jacksonville an hour ago?”
    My heart stopped. As did just about everything inside me. I just sat, with my hands bound, realizing just how serious this was. Being stopped for a traffic violation was one thing . . . But having 9/11-like kinds of questions thrown at you—in cuffs; in the back of a police car . . .
    â€œLook . ” I stared back, sure that my voice was shaking. “I don’t know who you think I am, or what you think I’ve done, but look in my eyes: I’m a doctor. I’m on my way to the Marriott for a medical conference at which I am delivering a speech later. I sped up through a traffic light because I was confused about the area trying to find the damn hotel. Actually, I’m not even sure I did go through the light . . . And I surely didn’t drive down a one-way street, which in any event, all seems kind of trivial now in light of what you’ve been asking me.
    â€œ But that’s it! I wasn’t stopped earlier by the police. I didn’t have a woman in the car. And I damn well wasn’t in a federal office building in downtown Jacksonville! I don’t know whether you have the wrong car, or the wrong information, the wrong whatever—but you definitely, definitely have the wrong guy!”
    I steadied my gaze as best I could, my heart pounding in my chest.
    â€œYou just better hope you’re right,” the bald cop finally said with an icy smirk, “ ’cause if it turns out you’re screwing with us in any way, you have my promise I’ll put a fat one up your ass so deep you’ll be shitting lead for the rest of your life. Which, I assure you, no one will be betting will be very long. You getting me, sir?”
    â€œYeah, I’m getting you,” I said back to him, my gaze heated too.
    The cops got out again, Martinez asking for my Social Security number. Then he and another older trooper who seemed to be in charge stood talking for a bit, and out of the blue, I thought I saw Martinez smile.
    Smile?
    Martinez patted him on the arm, and a short while later the senior cop got back in his car and headed off. As did the