Full Measure: A Novel by T. Jefferson Parker Page A

driver’s window and raised the beam of the flashlight into Patrick’s face. Pat sat up with both hands on the wheel and looked straight ahead. His breathing was normal and his pulse felt right.
    “What’s the hurry?” said the cop.
    “Just heading home.”
    “Ma’am. How are you tonight?”
    Patrick saw her squint. “Just fine, Officer. And you?”
    “License and registration.” Patrick dug out his wallet and handed over his military ID and driver’s license. Iris had opened the glove box and Patrick leaned across and caught her scent and the curve of her legs illuminated faintly by the compartment light. He rummaged through the bin and found the registration folder. “Step out.”
    Patrick opened the door and got out just as another police car pulled into the parking lot, lights flashing but silent. Then another. He looked across the tops of them toward the Galleon but still he saw no people or commotion there. The two new units penned him in. An officer from each car got out and stood between Patrick’s truck and the first cruiser while the lead responder walked back for a warrants check. Patrick looked through the open window at Iris, then leaned against his door and waited.
    “Be cool,” said Iris.
    “How many cops does it take to arrest a jarhead?”
    “I mean it, Patrick.”
    “They shouldn’t leave those lights flashing.”
    “Did your dad ever tell you bedtime stories?”
    “Mom did. Dad read me the Weekly Newsline of the California Avocado Commission.”
    The first cop came back and handed Patrick his documents. “Been drinking, Patrick?”
    “I had two beers.”
    “Smells like more than that.”
    “Precisely two, sir.”
    “Are you returning or deploying?”
    “Just home.”
    “I’m going to do a nystagmus test.” The cop pulled a penlight, stepped close to Patrick and played the beam back and forth, eye to eye. “Hmmm. Can you walk a straight line for me?” The cop stepped back ten paces. “Extend your arms and look up. Straight line now, walk directly to me.”
    Patrick heard muffled laughter from the other cops, who stood just beyond the lights and flashers of the first car. A group of people watched from the sidewalk. His plan was to focus on the North Star but the marine layer offered him nothing but a pale fuzzy firmament. Marine layer, he thought, that’s funny. He wished he could Marine lay Iris. He stared up into the fog as he walked but sensed he was just a little off course and when he lowered his gaze he saw that he was off almost thirty degrees. He stopped and sighed deeply and heard the truck door slam. Iris advanced through the flashing lights and the headlights with a hand out, proffering what looked like a business card. “Officer, I’m Iris Cash with the Village View newspaper in Fallbrook? Can I talk to you for just about two seconds? Please?” Patrick saw the other officers converging in her direction and he felt his adrenaline spike and he was more than ready to fight again.
    He heard the first cop say, “Yes, you may.” The other officers moved closer to Patrick and he watched Iris and the cop talking but could not hear their words. They stood by his car just out of the flood of the headlights. The cop had that feet-spread, arms-across-the chest stance that looked nonnegotiable. Patrick saw the red, white, and blue bands of light flashing across their bodies. He looked toward the Galleon and saw that the door was open now and there were men looking up and down the street. He tried to count how many drinks he’d had and could not. Iris came through the flashing lights, walking fast with her hand out, palm up. Patrick saw the men outside the Galleon looking his way. “Keys,” she said. “Now.”
    Patrick held out the truck keys and saluted the officer partially visible in the whirling colored lights.

 
    CHAPTER NINE
     
    Ted quit the grove work at noon and drove to Oceanside. He stepped inside Open Sights gun store and range, saw the glass counters