Chapter I, part 1

Central Colorado
 
"I'll need to see a copy of your license, registration, and proof of insurance."
The deputy was young, probably barely old enough to buy his end of shift beer. He had been aggressive to make the traffic stop, especially for 6 over the posted 65 mph limit, but now he seemed a bit nervous. Maybe he's feeling ashamed for shaking people down for infractions that wouldn't have raised an eyebrow a few years back, Mike thought to himself. The requested paperwork was already in his hand, retrieved while the deputy was still running his plates prior to making contact. He handed them through the window, then fished his license from his wallet. The deputy made no small talk during the exchange, and his right hand never left the top edge of the kidney plate sewn into his vest.
"Please keep your hands on the steering wheel while I'm looking this over." He stared at Mike for a few long seconds before backing to his right and continuing backwards just outside the fogline to his patrol truck.
Mike complied with the request, tapping on the wheel with his thumbs to the almost inaudible country coming from the speakers. The warmed rock sensation in his gut hadn't dissipated, and mild tension headache he'd had was cranking up in intensity. I should have seen this coming, he thought.
He'd been in Lakewood for the past three days, working on a side job to supplement his on again, off again income. Being forced to drive out of his way to get home due to a wreck that had closed the 25 was just another gutshot in a series of blows that had made the trip an all out money loser. Of course, the inevitable ticket that was coming was going to set him another week behind. He thought about how he was going to tell Darcy yet more bad news, and he felt his stomach sink.
They had been married for four years now, and the past three years had been a steady series of setbacks that should have driven them apart for sanity's sake. Still, they held on, but Mike had caught himself exploring the "hows" and "whys" more frequently. Sowing the seeds of distrust, and slowly driving himself insane was all he could ever accomplish by going down that road, and he knew it.
A flicker in the beam of the spotlight illuminating his over-the-hill Honda brought him back to his current issues. The deputy decided to change things up, and appeared at the passenger side window, rapping on the glass with an old-school Maglight. Mike reached across the car, and wound down the window, glancing up at the deputy.
"Here's your stuff back, Mr. Heath. I have to write you on the speed, but I'll just give you a warning on the marker light", explained the deputy. The kid went on to cover how and where to pay, and that the court costs to fight the ticket would double the amount if the judge didn't see things the way Mike did. It took a fair amount of self control to not light the kid up with a rant, but after another awkward moment, Deputy Jr. headed back to his truck. Mike thought it was odd that he didn't wait for him to proceed - he just killed the lights and reversed back to exit of the corner to await the next victim.
Mike carefully accelerated back into traffic, as light as it was, and then got off at the next exit. He pulled onto the shoulder of the adjacent frontage road, doused the lights, and shut off the engine. The little 4 cylinder ticked as it cooled in the thin mountain air, as he attempted to cool the rage building inside of him. $340 for 6 over? That was almost the same amount he had made for working the past three days, having gone 200 miles from home to do so. Unfortunately, it was that or nothing. His little town had dried up, in every possible way imaginable. But so had the rest of the state, even the country at that. Nothing was like it was even a few years back.