I stayed close to her car, my right hand slipping out to check and make sure the trunk was latched before moving up the vehicle, casting a glance into...the back seat.Hey, I know it was just a routine traffic stop, but do you know how many cops are killed on "routine" stops? Stopping just behind the door latch I leaned forward, noticing the female driver had placed her hands on the wheel in plain sight, which earned her another brownie point. Knowing where her hands were let me know she wasn't. It was a long way up the trunk of the old oak and the ladder just a bit short. Garland’s legs shook as he got onto the very top of the damn thing. He was bent over like a fucking circus clown with both hands and his feet on the bright orange top of the stepladder. Garland was afraid of heights and he straightened up real slow, hands out to his sides, just a little at first then finally straight out like he was balancing on a tightrope. His heart was going a mile a minute and he was sweating. More

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