She expected to see an empty vehicle. Tiffany felt like an unprepared Girl Scout when the light illuminated dark eyes. A hand pushed through black hair. The man’s discomfort was obvious. His shoulders braced against the seat.
“Can I help you?” she called through the window.
“I’m not sure.” His jaw muscles tensed, while he shaded his eyes against the flashlight.
“I’m going to open the door.” Her forearms and biceps bulged, and her sandals skidded on gravel but the driver door wouldn’t budge.
“Locking system jammed.” His speech was slurred.
“That doesn’t happen. Have you been drinking?” She sniffed for alcohol.
What kind of pain?” She watched him with first responder alertness. “Heart attack?”