one of you. After that, you’re free to go until your court date.”
“What about the lecture about being responsible citizens?” one of the Revelers asked.
The cop folded his arms across his chest. Amber watched muscles bunch and constrict, the blue fabric of his uniform pulled taut. Her study of the man missed no detail. From the black hiking boots at his feet, to the gleaming hardware on his gun belt.
His face matched the rest of him. Clean-shaven, angular. She paused at his eyes. Something wasn’t right about his eyes. A deep, almost piercing blue, they fit his face, but… Amber tilted her head a fraction, getting another view. At just that second, his gaze connected with hers.
She caught her breath.
He watched her for a moment, then turned his attention back to the group. “You want a lecture about acting like six-year-olds? The community center is completely trashed thanks to your food fight. Who’s in charge of you people?”
The crowd in lockup parted. Amber edged forward so she was near the front.
“I don’t belong in here,” she said. “You’ve made a mistake.”
Paul’s eyes narrowed in on her.
“About you, lady, there was no mistake.”
“I’m the grand marshal,” a man said, stepping forward and poking his chest out.
If it hadn’t been for the meringue in his hair, the potatoes on his tie and a missing shoe, he might have passed for “grand.”
Chuckling at the assembly, a couple of cops walked up behind the police chief, surveying the mass in lockup.
“What are you doing here, Amber?” Sergeant Caleb Jenkins asked.
“Caleb. Thank God.” Relief poured through Amber. “That’s the same thing I’ve been trying to find out. That lug head you call a police chief hauled me in here.”
People behind her snickered.
A muscle flickered angrily in Paul’s jaw. Though locked bars separated them, Amber stepped back.
“Lug head?”
“Uh,” Caleb started. “I, uh… He’s not a…” The sergeant didn’t meet her gaze, focusing instead on something on his boots.
“There’s been some kind of mix-up, Chief,” the sergeant said, marshaling his vocabulary and coming to her defense. “This is Amber Montgomery. She’s not a Reveler. She’s a caterer.”
Paul didn’t look convinced of her innocence. “You threatened me with a knife.”
Amber glared up at him, not letting the physical disparity of their heights dissuade her. “I am a caterer. If you’d done any kind of police work, you’d know that that was a carving knife. But how could you do any real police work—you were too busy shoving me around.”
Amber thrust her wrists in front of him. “Look.” Two bruises marred her pale skin.
Paul looked horrified. “What happened to you? Did somebody in the cage do that to you?”
“No, Chief Evans. You did. And you better believe that I’m filing a formal complaint.”
She whirled back toward Caleb. “Who hires the police chief?”
“Uh.” He looked from Amber to Paul. “Uh…”
“The mayor,” Paul supplied.
Just then a commotion in the hallway interrupted them. The main doors burst open. Wayside’s mayor strode in, followed by a reporter and a photographer from the Wayside Gazette and a frantic-looking Haley Brandon-Dumaine.
“Amber!”
“Paul,” the mayor bellowed. “What is going on in here?”
It took a good ten minutes to sort through what had happened.
“I’m pretty disappointed with you, Randall,” the mayor told the Revelers’ grand marshal. “I thought you all learned your lesson the last time.”
The Revelers’ last dinner-dance had resulted in a lifetime ban from the VFW hall.
“Some of us weren’t there then,” Silas called out.
It took a while, but on the mayor’s word and that of several longtime police officers, Amber was released from lockup. Haley stood with Amber as she signed the requisite forms.
“Ms. Montgomery, I’m truly sorry. It was an honest mistake,” Paul said, approaching them.
Amber’s derisive snort clearly said she wasn’t buying it.
“Will you let me formally apologize?”
Amber spun around. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, mister. First you yank me around like I’m some kind of rag doll. Now you think you can just make nice and I’ll forget about the way you treated me. Never again,” she said. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”
Those were fine words coming from someone who didn’t even know a lawyer, let alone have one.
Amber’s dramatic exit from the police station sapped the rest of her energy. By the time they got to Haley’s car, Amber felt like a rag doll that had not only been yanked around and dragged across the ground but also run through a washing machine.
“Are you all right?” Haley asked.
Amber nodded, but she stared out the passenger-side window of Haley’s car. “I need to get my stuff. My van is still at the community center.”
Haley winced. “I don’t think you’ll be able to get it. At least not tonight. Chief Evans isn’t letting anyone near there until they get photos of all the damage. When I drove by, your van was inside the crime scene tape.”
“Great, just great. How am I supposed to make my deliveries tomorrow?”
“You can take my car if you need it. I’ll have Matt drop me off at school.” Haley stopped at a red light and reached a hand out to her cousin. “Amber, I’m worried about you.”
Amber didn’t meet her concerned gaze. “I’m fine,” she said, trying to convince herself. “And I’m not going to have a breakdown, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
The two women rode in silence for a moment. Then Amber, in a voice that was steady and strong, said, “The only thing on my mind is making that cop pay for what he did to me.”
Haley glanced at her. “Which cop, Amber? The one here, or the one who hurt you in L.A.?”
Chapter Two
Paul Evans pulled into his driveway after a long shift. In his three months in Wayside, this had been the first time he’d experienced any rowdiness in the small town.
And
