I TORCHED MY CAREER ON INTERSTATE 40 WHEN I SLAMMED THE BRAKES TO SAVE WHAT THE FUGITIVE THREW OUT THE WINDOW. The speedometer read one hundred and ten, but it felt like we were standing still. The heat coming off the asphalt on Interstate 40 was enough to warp the air, turning the horizon into a shimmering pool of oil and light. Ahead of me, the black sedan was a blur of metal and desperation. We had been chasing him for three hours across state lines—a man wanted for trafficking, a man with no