The police station hummed with the low, electric energy of a city that never sleep. Officer Miller, a man whose face was a roadmap of long nights and longer shifts, looked up from his paperwork as a man shuffled into the station He was middle-aged, with a bewildered expression, as if he’d woken up on a different planet
“Can I help you, sir?” Miller asked, his voice flat with routine.
The man wrote his hands, his eyes wide with a panic that seemed oddly disconnected. “Officer, there’s no sign of my wife. She hasn’t returned home from her shopping trip yesterday!”
Miller sighed internally and grabbed a missing person’s report form. This was going to be a long one. “Okay, sir, let’s start with the basics. How old are you?”
The husband blinked, as if the question was in a foreign language. “I don’t know. Between fifty and sixty, I suppose. We do not celebrate birthdays. Seem frivolous.”
Miller’s pen paused. “Right. Okay. How tall are you?”
“I’m not sure. Somewhat taller than five feet. Shorter than a doorframe.”
The officer’s jaw tightened. “How much do you weigh?”
“I’m not sure. Not particularly fat or slender. Average, I’d say.”
Miller thought the urge to slam his pen on the desk. “What color are your eyes?”
The man leaned forward, peering at a spot on the wall as if trying to remember a dream. “I think it’s kind of brown. Or maybe hazel. It depends on the light.”
“What is your hair color?”
“Alters a few times annually. Now it might be dark brown. I can’t recall what I told the barber to do last time.”
Officer Miller took a deep, steady breath. He was talking to a ghost. “Sir, let’s focus on your wife. What did she have on?”
The husband’s brow furrowed in deep concentration. “It might have been shorts or a skirt, or perhaps pants. It was warm yesterday. I’m not precisely sure. I was in the garage.”
Miller’s eye began to twitch. “What sort of vehicle did she enter?”
“Oh, she got into my truck,” the husband said, his voice suddenly clear and certain.
A flicker of hope. Finally, a solid lead. “Okay, good. What sort of vehicle was that?”
The transformation was instantanious. The man’s built, vacant expression vanished, replaced by the laser-focused intensity of a master craftsman describing his life’s work. He sat up straight, his eyes gleaming with a fanatic light.
“A 2017 Pearl white Ram Limited 4X4 with a 6.4-liter Hemi V8 engine,” he began, his words tumbling out in a rapid-fire torrent of precise data. “Ordered with the Ram Box cargo management system and the built-in refrigerator option. It’s got front and rear cameras, full LED lighting, heated and coiled seats made of genuine moose hide leather, and a state-of-the-art climate-controlled air conditioning system It was manufactured on September 16th of that year, a Tuesday, I believe.”
He leaned forward, warming to his topic. “Weather Tech floor mats are standard, of course, and I had a custom matching white bed cover installed. Gold hitch, panoramic sunroof, DVD player with GPS navigation, satellite radio, and the heavy-duty trailing package with a seven-pin connector. For communication, it’s got a WX ST 40-channel Cobra 75 CB radio, four power outlets, three USB ports, six cup holders, and a factory-installed CB radio.”
He took a breath, but only a small one. “I personally upgraded the stock tires to aggressive off-road Toyo Open Country R/Ts and mounted them on unique alloy wheels. It features specifically designed retractable running boards that deploy with a whisper-quiet electric motor, and. . ”
“SIR!” Officer Miller slammed his hand on the desk, the sound echoing through the quarter station. The husband stopped, started. Miller stared at him, his face a mask of disbelief and dawning comprehension. He slowly put down his pen.
“Take it easy, sir,” Miller said, a slow grin reading across his face. “We’ll find your truck.”
