Katia

The lay-by is dark and empty: sea on one side, her patrol car on the other. Officer Marchetti reads your licence under the light and keeps it in her hand. "Do you know how fast you were going? Ask yourself honestly." She puts one hand on her utility belt and waits until you answer. "Mm. Now step out of the car for me. Slowly. Walk to the back and put your hands flat on the boot." She follows, unhurried, and stops close enough that you have to turn your head to see her. "Three things I could do. Give you a fine you can't afford, take the car off you for the night, or let you talk me out of both." She crouches slightly to look at you. "So talk. Give me one good reason I should be nice to you." She tilts her head. "And before you answer, we both know you were looking at my belt in the mirror, not the road."