The flashing lights of the black and white filled the rearview mirror as it kissed his rear bumper. Dr. Leonard Hout swore under his breath. The red light switched to a green arrow. Looking both ways with exaggerated movements, the doctor made a slow left turn and, only six blocks from home, pulled his Lexus to the curb.

Again the police car tapped his bumper.

"What a prick," Hout muttered.

The door swung open from the car behind and a skyscraper with mirrored sunglasses stepped out. A bulletproof vest, worn outside the uniform, eclipsed the sun as the policeman approached the side window. Leonard pressed the button and the driver's window whirred down. The August heat poured in, making him sweat almost instantly.

"License and proof of insurance."

"Yes sir." Dr. Hout unbuckled the seatbelt, reached into his back pocket and removed his wallet. Fumbling through the credit cards he found his driver's license and handed it to the officer.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" The huge policeman looked at the license. "Mr. Hout." It didn't sound like a question.

"No, sir."

"You a doctor?"

Leonard heard a challenge in the policeman's deep voice. "Yes, sir."

"Psychiatrist, huh?"

Leonard frowned and then noticed the copy of Psychiatric Update lying on the passenger seat. "Yes, sir."

"I've seen a couple of shrinks in my day," the officer said.

I'm sure you have.

"So you think that just because you're a doctor, you don't need to obey the traffic laws?"

Leonard shook his head. "No sir. Absolutely not."

The cop bent over, hands on his knees and stared through the open window. "Do you think just 'cause you're some head shrinker, you're better than everyone else?"

Something didn't feel right. The cop's words, his stance, his tone of voice... A knot formed in the pit of Hout's stomach. A drop of sweat rolled down his cheek and he gripped the steering wheel tighter to keep his hands from shaking.

"No sir. Not at all."

"Do you know the speed limit, Doctor?" The officer spit a wad of tobacco. It splattered on the hood of the Lexus.

"I thought it was thirty miles an hour." Hout knew the speed limit well, and he knew that was the speed he'd been driving. He'd seen enough cars pulled over this week to know about the trap. He had been careful.

The officer straightened up. "Do you know how fast you were going?"

Hout wanted to look into the policeman's face but the man's stomach took up the window. A swallow caught in the doctor's throat. He'd noticed it before, but it didn't register. Cops don't wear their bulletproof vests on the outside of their uniforms. Two small, circular dents had been punched into it. My God!

"I honestly thought I was going thirty, Officer."

"I clocked you at thirty-one. I'm going to have to give you a citation, sir. Oh, excuse me...Doctor."

"Thirty-one!" Hout's face steamed. He instantly forgot about the dents in the vest and the size of the authority. "I'm getting a ticket for going one mile an hour over the limit? I'll see you in court, Officer."

Even before his words spilled out, Dr. Hout regretted losing his temper. But this was nuts! Never had he heard of anyone getting a ticket for going one mile an hour over the limit.

An angry fist smashed against the roof of the Lexus.

"That's it. I don't have to take this abuse."

The driver's door flew open and a giant paw reached in and caught the doctor by the collar. Playing a rag doll, Dr. Hout flopped out of the car. Arms and legs flailed in midair. Lightning shot through his legs as they smashed into the front fender, but from the waist up he kept moving. Metallic thunder crashed in his head as the cop slammed it onto the hood of the car. The doctor felt something wet on the side of his face. He thought he might be bleeding.

A moment later the sickly sweet smell of tobacco filtered through his nostrils. The damn wad of tobacco. He tried to squirm out of the grip but a heavy hand at the base of his skull held him in place.

"I just try to do my job and all I get is some higher-than-fucking-God psychiatrist telling me to go fuck myself."

Hout tried to shake the static from his head. "I didn't say that. I'm sorry if you got that impression." It was hard to speak with one side of his mouth pressed against metal.

"Did I say you could talk?" The cop grabbed a handful of Leonard's hair, lifted his head a few inches, and slammed it back onto the hood.

Leonard's knees buckled, his lips smacked into the gob of brown juice. He tasted blood and tobacco and car. Nausea churned in his stomach, ready to erupt.

Fresh pain shot through his shoulder as the policeman jerked his left arm and twisted it up behind his back. A click and then a new agony of metal bit into his wrist. Before he could move, the cop yanked Leonard's other arm behind him and the other cuff snapped off the circulation of his right hand.

As if he were nothing more than a child's toy, the giant cop flung Dr. Hout toward the police car. Hout lost his balance and landed hard on his backside, barely avoiding crushing his hands. Sitting on the ground, he noticed the cop's white socks and sneakers spotted with blood. The uniform slacks hiked well above the ankle, cuffs hugging massive calves.

The doctor frantically searched the sidewalk for help. The noonday sun reflected off the house windows so he couldn't see inside, but he prayed someone, somewhere, might be watching, and hopefully filming this on their camcorder. That might help later. For now Dr. Hout had to rely on his own wits.

The policeman walked up and stood over him, blocking out the sun. He reached down and lifted Hout off the ground by a handful of his thinning hair. Dragging him across the pavement like a sack of laundry, the giant opened the door to the squad.

Leonard Hout choked back a cry; vomit bubbled up his throat. A man lay crumpled on the back seat, his dead eyes staring at the roof. He wore a blood-soaked T-shirt, shit-filled briefs, and black socks. In a grotesque comedy, a police badge had been pierced through his nose. The man, who had obviously been a police officer until earlier that day, would have been considered large until compared to the one who now wore his uniform.

The doctor opened his mouth to scream but a fist in the stomach stifled that. He doubled over as the air spewed from of his lungs. A knee caught him hard into his ass, shoving him in the squad.

"Watch your head, sir...er, excuse me. Watch your head--Doctor."

Hout landed on top of the body and the door slammed shut.