Kit's mind ran through every possible outcome as he watched the officer approach at a pace similar to that of a snail. The best outcome would be for their identification to be checked, cleared, and they could be sent on their way. The worst would be having to resort to the gun. He knew that it was possible, but he didn't want it to be true.

He took his hands off the steering wheel and rested one on his thigh, and the other on the edge of the folded cloth for quick access. A heavy tension settled over the car. Emily's breathing grew louder and Kit wished he could offer some more reassuring words, but the officer stopped by the door before he could so much as smile at her.

"Good afternoon, sir," the officer said. His voice was low but cheerful and his eyes roamed over the backseat. They linger on Emily for a little too long.

"Can I help you, officer?"

"Is this your motorcar?"

"Yes, sir." Kit fought to keep his voice steady in the hopes that it was the one thing that wouldn't betray him. "Is there a problem with it?"

"Can I see your identification and any papers you have relating to this vehicle?"

"Of course."

The officer watched him reach into the glove box with his left hand — his right still resting on the edge of the cloth — and pull out the stack of papers that Rob managed to put together. Kit tried to still his slightly shaking hand when he passed over the papers, hoping against hope that they looked legitimate enough to be believed. He snuck a glance at Emily, who still sat tensed up. If she didn't relax soon, it would be the thing that gave them away.

Kit watched anxiously as the officer stepped away from the Rolls Royce and approached his partner. The two of them thumbed through the papers, scouring every line for something that might have been out of place or draw attention to either him or Emily. He tugged on the corner of the cloth, breathing heavily and counting down the seconds until they could be on their way.

His mouth turned to sandpaper, and his heart beat so fast against his ribcage that he worried the officers would hear it. The still-purring engine did little to quell his rising fears. The longer they read through the papers, the more nervous he became, and he could feel Emily's nerves. Kit moved his hand away from the cloth and grabbed hers, offering her a reassuring squeeze. She squeezed back, letting out a small breath.

The seconds dragged out, twisting into minutes that felt like hours, or even days. Kit watched the people walk down the street and past the officers. Some looked at the car in awe, others offered the officers questioning looks as they continued to search through the papers.

"This is taking too long," Kit muttered, tapping his fingers on his thighs.

"Maybe they just need to check it all. Father probably has a price on your head and they'll be looking to claim it."

"The real question is, how much does he think I'm worth?"

Emily laughed a little. "At least twenty-five pounds."

"Not bad."

Kit looked at the officers, who were watching him with furrowed eyebrows. One of them took the sheets of paper and walked to the front of the car, getting up close and personal with the fake licence plate. To Kit it looked like the real thing, as did the paperwork, but to a professional, especially if there was money involved, they would look a little harder.

The fact that he had a price on his head made their escape that little bit harder. It wasn't going to be a case of getting stopped once and then given a pass through any other checkpoints. They would be stopped every second of the way by officers who just wanted to fill their pockets a little bit more. Money did strange things to people. He would know. He spent his life stealing for just a few shillings.

He watched the officer return to his partner with the papers in hand. They exchanged a few hushed words, gestured to the car a few times, and then approached with the paper crumpling under their fingertips.

"Can you step out of the car for a second, sir?" he asked.

"What for?"

"Just step out of the car." The officer peered around him and looked at Emily. "You too."

Kit and Emily looked at each other for a few moments, and Kit's eyes drifted to the wrapped gun. He opened the door and stepped out of the car, but he made sure he could grab the gun quickly if he needed to. He hoped he wouldn't need to.

The officers watched them, one hand resting on their hips and the other still holding onto the paper.

"What's your name, son?"

"Mark Lewis."

"Age?"

"Nineteen."

"Where'd you get the car from?"

"My father bought it for me. He said I needed to stop borrowing his, so got me my own." Kit focused on the lies he had rehearsed with Emily and Rob, hoping they would believe it, but as he spoke, even he failed to believe the words.

"Have you heard anything about a stolen Rolls Royce? Taken about a week ago, along with a young girl?"

"I've heard stories about it." He tried to look shocked. "Hell of a thing to happen."

"Hm. You see, son, this motorcar is nearly identical to the one stolen that night. Same make, same colour, but the licence plate is different."

"It's a good motorcar. She's a beauty to drive."

"Hm. I bet." The officer slowly nodded his head and peered around to look at Emily, who was half-leaning in the car. Her head was turned towards the ground and angled away from the officers. "See, it's not just the colour or the make of the vehicle that's the same. This motorcar has the exact same dent in the bonnet that Mr Masters' car had. Care to explain that?"

His heart stopped in his chest. His blood ran cold and everything around him came to a standstill. Of all the things to not consider, of all the things to miss, it was that dent on the front of the car where he'd been struck that had been their undoing. It hadn't even crossed his mind to mention it to Rob, not when the licence plate mattered more. He was surprised Mr Masters even remembered the dent. Then again, it had been caused by Kit.

Kit opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a single word, a loud shot rang out.

~~~

First Published - February 7th, 2024