“The license is valid.”

He said nothing.

“And unless you have another lawful reason for this stop, we're finished here.”

The deputy's face tightened.

“Yes, Sergeant.”

I felt a rush of relief.

Finally, someone had checked the facts.

Finally, someone had asked the questions that should have been asked at the beginning.

But the sergeant wasn't finished.

She glanced at her notebook.

“Dispatch also told me you made a request involving Ms. Hagen's name.”

The deputy shifted uncomfortably.

“It was just a radio call.”

“Was it?”

He didn't answer.

The sergeant looked at Mom.

“Would you mind explaining why you asked him to say your name?”

Mom considered the question.

Then she looked at the deputy.

“I didn't ask him to do anything unusual. I asked him to say my name.”

“Why?”

Mom folded her hands over her handbag.

“Because I wanted to know whether he would treat me differently once he discovered who I was.”

The sergeant's expression changed slightly.

“And who are you, Ms. Hagen?”

Mom looked at her for a long moment.

Then she answered.

“I'm the woman who spent thirty-four years making sure people who came through that courthouse were treated with dignity.”

The Name Behind the Yellow Paper

The sergeant stared at Mom.

Then she looked again at the identification card.

“Wait,” she said. “You worked in the county courthouse?”

“For thirty-four years.”

“What department?”

“Records and public services. Mostly records, eventually.”

The sergeant glanced at the deputy.

“You didn't recognize her?”

He shook his head.

Mom gave a small shrug.

“There's no reason he should have recognized me. I wasn't asking for special treatment.”

The sergeant looked confused.

“Then what did you expect to happen when dispatch heard your name?”

Mom glanced at the radio.

“Someone there might remember me.”

For a moment, the only sounds were the wind moving through the corn and the steady ticking of the Buick's cooling engine.

Then the radio came alive.

“Sergeant Miller, dispatch. We have a call from the courthouse. Former records supervisor Daniel Price is requesting to speak with Ms. Hagen, if she's available.”

The sergeant looked at Mom.

“Would you like to take the call?”

Mom smiled faintly.

“Of course.”

The sergeant turned up the radio volume.

A man's voice came through, slightly breathless.

“Shirley? Is that really you?”

Mom stepped closer.

“Hello, Daniel.”

“Oh, thank goodness. They told me you were on County Road Six.”

“I am.”

“Are you all right?”

“I'm fine.”

There was a pause.