“Uh-huh,” he says, and I think, Great, just say so long and we’ll both be on our way.

Then it goes straight to hell.

The trooper steps back, brings up his service pistol from his holster, and says, “Ma’am, show me your hands. And then exit the vehicle.”

Ah, shit, I think.

“Ma’am?”

No, no, no, I think, my eyes tearing up again.

“For God’s sake,” I say, “don’t do this.”

“What?” the trooper asks. “Hands up. Get out of your vehicle. Now!”

My hand is near the butt of the .357 Ruger. If I bring it up and try to shoot him through the open Jeep window, that’ll give him plenty of time to cut me down before I can even pull the trigger.

Which leaves the side of the Jeep. It’s a thin-skinned vehicle, and if I bring the Ruger back around my lap and shoot to the side and the rear, then the rounds will go through the thin metal and hit him.

Hit the police officer. A representative of the State of Tennessee, a defender of law and order, and I’m about to put a bullet in him.

My stomach is roiling, my mouth is dry.

I have no choice.

I think one more time.

I reach out and grab what I need.

Trooper Clay Hancock takes one more step back, because this situation is going to the shits real quick now, and then, thankfully and to his surprise, the driver does just what he asked, sticking out both hands through the open window. One hand is holding her driver’s license and registration.

All right, he thinks, progress.

“Driver, lower your left hand, open your door from the outside. Now.”

The woman’s left hand moves down, fumbles some with the outside door handle, and she pulls it open.

“Now, slowly step out, and face toward the front of your vehicle.”

The door swings open and she steps out, and then steps back, both arms up in the air, and he’s confident now that he’s onto something, because she’s lifted her arms without being ordered to do so.

Which means she’s hiding something.

“Driver, slowly step—”

She starts coming back and then her driver’s license and registration drop from her right hand, and she says, “Oh, let me get that.”

The driver bends down to pick up the two slips of identification, and then—

It happens in so few seconds.

The woman is on her hands, and then she lifts up both legs, and propels herself back with her arms, and her legs open up in a V shape, and Hancock tries to step back, lifts up his pistol, but the woman is too damn fast!

Her strong legs wrap around his own lower legs, she twists her legs and he falls, hitting his head on the pavement, and his pistol is out of his hand, and he’s trying to fight back, but the woman tugs at his utility belt and he yelps as he’s struck in his eyes with his own pepper spray.