Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 74: DUI

Every time I glance in my rearview mirror, the same headlights shine.

I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white as I take another seemingly random turn.

"Come on, come on," I mutter, willing the car behind me to disappear.

But it doesn’t. Those damn headlights remain, like predatory eyes in the darkness. I’ve been driving in circles for what feels like hours, getting off the highway only to loop back on again.

At first, I thought it was Mike. But then I remembered—his car’s still at the office.

I try to focus on the road ahead, but my eyes keep darting to the rearview mirror. The shape of those headlights is burned into my retinas.

Random turns aside, I’m now headed toward the police station. Maybe I’m paranoid. Maybe it’s not the same car. It’s just headlights in the dark, right? So it could be a different car each time.

But with the panther’s warning ringing in my head, I know it’s not.

When I glance in my mirror again, the headlights are gone.

A relieved laugh escapes my lips. I was paranoid after all.

A massive SUV suddenly swerves in front of me, its taillights blazing red. I slam on the brakes, hearing my tires screech against asphalt.

"Shit!"

The SUV’s brake lights flood my vision, growing larger by the second. I brace for impact, my body tensing—

But it doesn’t come. My car shudders to a halt, mere inches from the SUV’s bumper. The acrid smell of burning rubber fills my nostrils as I gasp for air, my heart threatening to burst from my chest.

For a moment, everything is still. Then, the driver’s door of the SUV swings open.

My heart pounds like a jackhammer as I slam the gas pedal to the floor. The engine roars, tires screeching against asphalt. A dark figure rushes toward my car, arms outstretched. I swerve, narrowly missing him.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

My trembling fingers fumble with my phone, desperately punching in 911. The SUV looms in my rearview mirror, a monstrous shadow pursuing me through the night.

"911, what’s your emergency?"

"Someone’s following me!" My voice cracks, panic clawing at my throat. "They forced me to stop and tried to—"

"Ma’am, please calm down. Can you tell me your location?"

I rattle off street names, my eyes darting between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. The dispatcher’s voice remains steady, a lifeline in the chaos.

"Head to the nearest police station. Stay on the line with me."

"Okay, okay." I take a shaky breath, trying to focus. I swear, I’m never getting in a car again. This is ridiculous. What’s my luck with cars?!

I merge onto the main road, surrounded by a sea of headlights. My pursuer’s distinct glare vanishes, lost in the flow of traffic. Relief washes over me, but I don’t slow down.

"I think I lost them," I tell the dispatcher, my voice still quivering.

"That’s good, ma’am. Keep heading to the station. I’ll stay on the line until you’re safe."

The police station comes into view, a beacon of safety in the night. I pull into the parking lot, my hands shaking as I cut the engine.

"I’m here," I breathe into the phone.

"An officer will meet you outside. Stay in your car until they arrive."

My hands shake violently against the steering wheel as I twist around, trying to make sure the SUV didn’t follow me here.

A knock on my window makes me jump. An officer stands there, hand on his holster. I roll down the window, the cool night air a stark contrast to my flushed skin, and realize I recognize him.

"Hello, Ms. d’Armand."

"Hello, Officer Daniels."

"Are you the one who called about being followed?"

I nod, stepping out of the car on wobbly legs. "Yes, that’s me."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

I recount the events, my words tumbling out in a frantic rush. The SUV, the forced stop, the man running toward my car. Officer Daniels listens, jotting notes in a small pad.

"Did you get a look at the license plate?"

I shake my head, frustration bubbling up. "No, I—I was too scared. It happened so fast."

"What about the man who approached your car? Can you describe him?"

My mind goes blank. In the moment, all I saw was a dark figure, a threat. "He was... tall? Wearing dark clothes? I’m sorry, I don’t—"

Officer Daniels holds up a hand, his brow furrowing. He leans in slightly, and I see his nostrils flare.

"Ma’am, have you been drinking tonight?"

The question catches me off guard. "What? No, I—"

"I can smell alcohol on your breath."

"I had one drink, with coworkers. I’m not drunk."

Ignoring my protests, he takes a step back. "I’m going to need you to step over here and perform a few tests for me."

Now that I’m safe and the immediate danger has passed, I’m frustrated. But I follow him, even though my legs are trembling like jelly.

"First, I need you to stand on one leg and count to thirty."

I comply, wobbling slightly as I lift my foot. The stress of the night, the adrenaline crash, it’s all affecting my balance. I make it to twenty before putting my foot down.

"Now, I want you to walk in a straight line, heel to toe, for nine steps. Then turn and come back the same way."

Easy. One foot in front of the other, careful, precise. But on the turn, I stumble slightly.

Officer Daniels shakes his head. "Ma’am, based on these tests and the odor of alcohol, I’m citing you for driving under the influence."

"What? No!" Indignation flares within me. "This is ridiculous. I’m not drunk! Give me a breathalyzer test."

"Ma’am, the field sobriety test is sufficient—"

"No, it’s not." My voice firms as I confront him. "I was just chased by some maniac, nearly run off the road. Of course I’m shaking! That doesn’t mean I’m drunk. I demand a breathalyzer test."

Officer Daniels sighs, clearly annoyed by my insistence. "Fine. We’ll do a preliminary breath test. But I want you to understand, this doesn’t change the fact that you’ve failed the field sobriety test."

He retrieves a handheld device from his patrol car. "Blow into this tube until I tell you to stop."

I take a deep breath and blow, praying that this nightmare will end. The machine beeps, and Officer Daniels looks at the readout.

"Huh," he mutters, surprise evident in his voice.

Relief floods through me. "See? I told you I wasn’t drunk!"

Officer Daniels looks conflicted. "Ma’am, while you’re under the legal limit, you still failed the field sobriety test. I’m going to have to—"

"Are you kidding me?" Anger bubbles up, replacing my earlier fear. "I was just terrorized on the road, and now you’re trying to punish me for it? I want to speak to your supervisor. Now. I’m already here at the station. He’s inside, isn’t he?"

Officer Daniels’ jaw clenches. He usually looks friendly, but now he’s curt. "Wait here."

As he walks away, I lean against my car, exhaustion settling in now that the adrenaline’s fading.

A few minutes later, I hear footsteps approaching. Officer Daniels returns with an older man, his silver hair glinting under the parking lot lights. I don’t recognize him.

"Ma’am, I’m Sergeant Thompson. Officer Daniels tells me you have some concerns about your treatment tonight."

I straighten up, meeting the sergeant’s gaze. "Yes, I do. I called for help after being chased and nearly run off the road. Instead of focusing on finding the person who did this, your officer decided to accuse me of drunk driving. Even after a breathalyzer proved I’m well under the legal limit, he still wants to cite me. This is completely unacceptable."

Sergeant Thompson listens, his expression neutral. When I finish, he turns to Officer Daniels. "What’s your take on this, Daniels?"

"Sergeant, the subject failed the field sobriety test and I detected the odor of alcohol. Protocol dictates—"

"I failed because I’m still shaking. See my hands?" I thrust them in front of Sergeant Thompson as they tremble in the air.

Sergeant Thompson nods. "I can see that, ma’am."

"I’m sorry, I know I must seem hysterical." My hands continue to shake as I push my hair back from my face. "But you have to understand, I was terrified."

"I understand, ma’am. Can you explain a little more about this incident of yours?"

I close my eyes for a moment, replaying the terrifying sequence of events in my mind. When I open them again, I meet the sergeant’s gaze with renewed determination.

"I was driving home from a work event. At first, I thought I was just being paranoid, but there was this car following me. No matter how many turns I took, it stayed right behind me."

Officer Daniels shifts uncomfortably, but I press on.

"Then, out of nowhere, this massive SUV swerves in front of me. It came so close, I thought for sure we were going to crash." My voice catches, and I have to swallow hard before continuing. "They slammed on their brakes, forcing me to a complete stop. I was terrified."

"What color was this SUV? Make? Model? Did you get a license number?"

"Um. Dark. Black, I guess? I’m not really good with cars. I don’t know what kind it was."

"And what happened next?"

"The driver got out of the SUV. I couldn’t see their face, but they were running straight for my car." I wrap my arms around myself, suppressing a shudder. "I managed to swerve around them and speed off. They stopped following at some point after that."

The sergeant’s expression softens. "I can only imagine how frightening that must have been for you. You did the right thing by coming here." Then he turns to his subordinate. "I don’t think we need to pursue any DUI charges here. Clearly, this lady has been through a traumatic experience. Take her report properly and see if you can find any cameras that caught the incident."