make sure you get every cent if your story checks out and we release you,” he said. “Now, turn around, hands on the car.”
Riley uttered a single word that she never used, then turned to slap both of her hands palms down on the cold top of the black car. She’d come so far, but at this moment, she felt as if she’d slipped back into a past she’d tried to bury for ten years.
She was startled when he touched her from behind, his hands on her shoulders, skimming over her, light but thorough. Down both of her arms, down her sides, to her waist, to her hips, then down and on both sides of her legs. She closed her eyes tightly, enduring the touch, praying for it to end.
Once the frisking was over, though, he snapped a handcuff on her wrist, then pulled her other hand down and back to secure it. “Okay, let’s go,” he said so close she felt the air vibrate with his words.
She turned slowly, taking time to focus, to build the anger that smoldered in her. There was no way she was going to dissolve into tears in front of a cop. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Joshua Pierce.”
“Badge number?”
“The name’s enough,” he murmured.
“Okay, but you’re going to regret this.”
He shook his head. “Adding ‘threatening a police officer in the commission of his duties’ is not going to help anything.”
She shrugged, tugging at the handcuffs. “I think it’s illegal to let a prisoner freeze to death,” she muttered.
“We don’t want that to happen.” He caught her by her upper arm and led her to his squad car. Opening the back door, he put his hand on the top of her head to ease her down and in, then waited for her to scoot over on the hard seat. She shifted, settled and stared straight ahead.
He opened his door, then called to the other cop. “Wait for Rollie to get here, then come back to the station.”
“Are you cool with this?” he asked, motioning to her in the car.
This obviously wasn’t big city if a cop used the word cool.
“Very cool,” he said to the other man, then slipped in behind the wheel.
Riley felt him study her in the rearview mirror, through the wire mesh separation in the cruiser. “What about my things?” she asked.
“They’ll be secured,” he said, then asked, “Are you comfortable?”
She looked at him, those reflective glasses driving her crazy. She hated not being able to see his eyes. “Cool,” she muttered.
She thought she saw the hint of a smile shadow his lips for a moment before he pulled out around the BMW. He waved to the other officer, then headed south. He shifted and she knew he was looking at her in the mirror again.
“Nice clean car,” she said.
That smile was almost there again. “Thanks.”
She looked around the interior. “Dated, but dead-on clean.”
“Are you a connoisseur of police cruisers?”
She’d seen a few in her life, but this was not the first time she’d been in one and she wasn’t guilty of anything. She’d done everything to never ride in a cop car again, but here she was. The last time, she’d been guilty as heck, but not this time. The last time she’d gotten into the stolen car knowing it was stolen, and gone for a joyride with three kids she’d known she shouldn’t trust. The last time she’d been arrested, she’d thought she’d be in jail for the rest of her life. And she might have been, if she hadn’t been rescued.
Riley looked at the cop who said his name was Joshua Pierce, and knew that there wouldn’t be a rescue this time. He took off his uniform cap, tossed it on the front seat, exposing thick dark hair flecked with gray at the temples, and she finally looked away and out the side window. A stone fence ran along the road then stopped at an elaborate entrance to some sort of estate or resort. They even had a guard by massive wooden gates. The guard looked up, waved, then glanced in the back seat at her. His hand stilled in the air.
“You don’t get too many criminals around here, do you?” she asked.
“Not usually,” he murmured.
“I bet you’ll get some sort of medal for arresting a hardened criminal ready to take over this town.”
He looked at her in the rearview mirror and she saw her own image reflected in his glasses. “One can only hope so,” he murmured.
“That’s a joke, Officer, like this whole thing is a joke,” she muttered. One thing she’d learned as a teenager living on the streets was to keep things like fear to yourself. Never show weakness. And when she’d rebuilt her life, the same thing applied. When she’d had her interviews at the college with prospective employers once she’d earned her degree in physical therapy, she’d made very sure she didn’t let them know how scared she was or how desperate she was for a good job.
“This isn’t a joke, Miss Shaw,” he said.
She shrugged, but caught her handcuffs on the hard plastic of the seat. She looked out at the scenery, the rock fence gone as they slipped into what looked like a typical skiing community with shops and houses, ski lifts that were crowded with skiers, and more shops and restaurants. Everything looked determinedly “cute” and postcard-perfect.
Finally they arrived at a security fence that swung open as they approached. The squad car pulled in next to the other cars in the lot and the cop exited and came around to where she sat.
He pulled open her door and the cold air cut into the car. She shivered as she ducked to get out, her movements awkward without the use of her hands. He steadied her by holding her upper arm, and once she was on her feet they headed for the building.
Within a minute they were inside and she was grateful for the warmth. She looked around at the wide central room that held several desks, lines of filing cabinets, and fronted what was probably the entry to the jail. A long, dark-wood reception desk separated the entry from the main room. This jail was anything but cute, like the town. It had worn wooden floors, wainscotting done in what looked like fake cherrywood, off-white walls adorned with Wanted posters and a huge message board.
All police stations had that dull look to them, as if hope died in them. But she wasn’t going to let that happen to her. She’d prove her innocence and be back on the road in no time.
Chapter Two
The place looked empty until Joshua let Riley go and she heard, “Hey, there.” She turned to see a cop coming out of a rear area, through a metal lockdown door. The cell area. She knew without asking. He left the heavy door open and headed across to them, speaking to Joshua as he got closer. “Wes said you’d be back,” he said. He was older, maybe in his mid-fifties or so, with a discernable paunch under his uniform and a lopsided way of walking.
“Charlie, this is Riley Shaw. Miss Shaw, this is Deputy Sloan, Acting Sheriff around here.”
Riley
