The Mountain Man's Bride, page 9
Wadsworth stared at the heavens, hands clenched next to his head. “Could we hold this family meeting some other time? And Miss McBride, would you please get back in your car? For God’s sake.”
Stacy rolled her hands into fists and used them to hold her coat closed. “If you’d kindly get a move-on and decide whether you’re going to let me go on about my business or drum up some fictional charge—”
“Lady, you were going seventy-five miles an hour in a fifty zone,” Wadsworth said. “For starters. Now get back in your car.”
“No way,” Lehigh said. “Her car couldn’t do seventy-five falling off a cliff. Did you clock that on radar?”
“Carter, I’m warning you. Back off. And Miss McBride, for the final time, get back in your car. Now!” Wadsworth pointed a thick trunk of an arm at her car.
Stacy glared at Wadsworth, then glanced at Lehigh. A cold breeze kicked up and she shivered, pulling her overcoat tighter around her. “All right. But get on with it, will you? This is taking all day.” She stomped back to her car. Lehigh covered a wry smile with his hand.
Wadsworth pointed a finger at Lehigh. “You stay put, too.”
Lehigh held up his hands in surrender. The detective’s comical authoritarian demeanor made it that much harder to keep from grinning like a maniac. Particularly with his fiancée prancing around in the mud in high heels and skimpy underwear, for whatever reason.
Wadsworth lumbered back to his cruiser. Lehigh flicked on his police band radio, a Christmas present from Stacy he’d only gotten around to installing a few days before.
“Got that plate and registration for ya, Jim.” Lehigh recognized Dwayne’s voice, perhaps the most likeable sheriff’s deputy after Barkley, though not half as smart. In his youth, Dwayne showed great athletic promise, but couldn’t keep his grades up—even in Clarkesville’s permissive pro-jock environment. He’d blown a full ride football scholarship to Oregon State by becoming academically ineligible midway through the season during his senior year of high school, even though he took mostly gym and shop classes.
But he’d also dated the prettiest girl in school (other than Stacy), a buxom blonde named Julie he knocked up and married three months after graduation. This past fall, Dwayne’s son Earl accepted the scholarship Dwayne long ago forfeited and led the OSU Beavers in receptions his sophomore year.
“Go on.” Wadsworth’s voice crackled over the radio speaker.
“It’s all clean,” Dwayne said. “Nothing outstanding. It’s her car, insurance checks out. But…”
Lehigh sat up from his slouch. “But what?” he said at the same time as Wadsworth.
“Bring her in,” Dwayne said.
“For what?” Once again Lehigh and the detective spoke in unison.
“There’s a bench warrant out on her. Apparently she missed a court date.”
“What court date?” Lehigh asked this time without Wadsworth’s help.
“Details,” the detective said.
“A grand jury hearing yesterday. She never showed.”
“She never mentioned any jury summons.” Lehigh’s stomach turned to jelly.
“Roger. Thanks, Dwayne.” The detective swung his car door open and stepped out. He walked with a pronounced swagger to Stacy’s car. Lehigh turned off the radio and lowered his window to listen.
“Ma’am,” Wadsworth said, loud enough for the next county to hear, “get out of the car.”
Chapter
Stacy froze in place, her eyeliner pencil an inch from her face. That stupid cop sounded like he wanted to arrest her.
And for what? Nobody got arrested in Clarkesville for going a few miles over the speed limit. More important, she hadn’t exactly dressed for the occasion.
She lowered the driver’s door window and put on her best “helpless female” face…which wasn’t very good. Stacy didn’t do “helpless” very often. “Excuse me, I didn’t quite hear what you said.”
“Get out of the damned car!” Wadsworth spread his feet into a wide—some might say shooting—stance, leaning forward from the waist, hand on his holster.
His unsnapped holster.
She pushed open the door and stepped out. Her coat flapped open in the breeze. She pulled the two sides closed and grabbed the loose ends of her belt to tie it.
“Hands up where I can see ’em!” Wadsworth’s hand shook, pointing at her, six feet from her face.
She raised her hands and let the coat flap open again. Freezing cold, scared, and half naked, plus getting arrested right in front of her fiancé for God knows what…this, she could tell, would go down as one of the worst days of her life.
“My eyes are up here, Detective.”
His gaze snapped up from her chest. No doubt the thin, lacy fabric and cold air gave him quite the show.
The detective reddened further, if that was even possible. “I’m, uh, going to have to check you for weapons.”
Stacy snorted. “In this outfit? Where would I hide a weapon? In my butt?”
“Procedure, ma’am. Please face the vehicle and place your hands on the roof.” He gestured toward the car.
She rolled her eyes but obeyed. “Careful where you put your hands. Remember, my fiancé is watching.”
He patted her sides, then reached into her coat pockets. Stacy grinned when he pulled out a fistful of used tissues, as well as some lip gloss and a half-pack of gum. He ran his hands up over her hips and legs, too fast to feel anything. She could have smuggled a cannon past him.
“You’re under arrest for driving in excess of the posted speed limit, and for failing to appear in response to a court-ordered summons.”
“What summons?” She turned her head toward him.
“Eyes forward, ma’am. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney.” He cuffed her—for God’s sake!—and led her to the cruiser.
Where Lehigh stood, waiting, at the front bumper.
Humiliation fought with love and gratitude for control of her emotions. The only daughter of a recently disgraced politician getting arrested in her underwear on the side of a highway in front of her fiancé—God, it sounded like the worst tabloid headline imaginable.
But to have him there, blocking this cop’s path, sticking up for her, taking care of her, making sure the cop didn’t do anything stupid, felt like an answer to a prayer she hadn’t even uttered.
“Call my lawyer,” she said to Lehigh.
Then the humiliation and rage returned. Lawyers. Like her disgraced father, and the piece of garbage she’d broken up with a few months before, Paul van Paten—the source of so much pain in her life. Freaking lawyers.
“Where are you taking her, Detective?” Lehigh, his voice firm, kept his feet planted in their path to the cruiser.
“Headquarters, first off. I think you’re familiar with the location?” Wadsworth dragged Stacy forward. She stumbled against the edge of the pavement, unsteady in the skinny spike heels. Wadsworth’s grip loosened on her arm, and she tipped sideways. With both hands cuffed behind her, she had no way to break her fall. She landed hard on her side, and her knee and head bounced on the wet tarmac.
“For God’s sake, Wadsworth!” Lehigh bent down and reached for her.
“Stay back!” The cop pushed Lehigh away from her and stood at Stacy’s feet―feet splayed wide, that is, providing a full view of every inch of her skin from the top of her shoe straps to the sliver of black thong underwear bunching up at her waist. With her hands cuffed, she couldn’t even close her coat.
She struggled up to a seated position. The nightie probably covered her crotch at that point. Wetness seeped through her coat, soaking her butt. Blood seeped from scratches on her knee, and something warm trickled down the side of her face.
“Don’t bother fixing your dress, ma’am,” Wadsworth said. “Where you’re going, nobody’s going to see it anyway.”
***
Stacy wrapped her coat tight around her body, trying to conserve some body heat in the walk-in freezer of an interrogation room at the sheriff’s office. Still, having sat there for the better part of an hour, her unprotected bare legs felt like ice cubes, and she couldn’t even feel her feet. Which was probably a good thing, since she still wore the ridiculously uncomfortable pumps whose sole purpose in life was to get kicked off the moment something amorous happened. Which it hadn’t, of course, making everything just a little more frustrating.
Detective Wadsworth pushed open the door, and a young, athletically built deputy named Flynn followed him into the room. Flynn closed the door and stood with his back to it. Wadsworth ambled over to the interview table, stood next to Stacy, and glared down at her. “You’re in my chair.”
Stacy scoffed. “You snooze, you lose.”
Flynn grabbed her arm. “Move it!”
Stacy shrugged him off and stayed put in the somewhat more comfortable swiveling desk chair, which had at least a tiny bit of padding and was the right height for her, after she’d spent several minutes fussing with the flat black levers under the seat. No mean trick for a person in handcuffs. The undersized metal-framed job on the other side of the table, into which she’d been pushed a half hour before, remained empty and uninviting. She glanced up at Wadsworth. “You want a better chair, go get one. I’m stuck here, remember?”
Wadsworth took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. He shook his head at the deputy to back him away from her. “You’re not helping yourself here, Ms. McBride.”
“Where’s that phone you promised? I need to call my lawyer.”
Wadsworth snorted. “Figures. Well, actually, you don’t need a phone to call him—just raise your voice a bit. Constantine Richards has been in the building since about five seconds after you arrived. He’s not a terribly happy person, by the way.”
“That makes two of us. Why haven’t I seen him yet?”
“You’re about to.” With a heavy sigh, Wadsworth gestured to Flynn, who unlocked the shackles on Stacy’s wrists, then stepped aside. “You’re free to go. I, uh, apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Inconvenience? What the hell?” Stacy jumped to her feet. “Why was there ever a bench warrant out on me, anyway? Why didn’t I know I was supposed to be at a grand jury hearing yesterday?”
“Because you got juked. You, me, a lot of people.” Wadsworth walked to the other side of the table and sat on the edge of it. The table creaked under his weight, but held.
“Forgive me for asking, but what do you mean by ‘juked’?” Stacy rubbed her sore wrists where the handcuffs had pressed hard into her skin.
“It means, someone got into our very secure computer system and secretly removed key documents that should have been hand delivered to you and your attorney by marshals of the county court,” Wadsworth said, voice glum. “Several times over the past several months, as it turns out, not just in your case. Lucky for you, it was rather clumsily and incompletely done, so it became obvious, once we looked for it. But, unfortunately, not in time for you to appear as a witness for the hearing.”
“What hearing? Where? How do I—”
“We’re still tracking that down. That information, too, got scrubbed. The key thing is, it’s obviously not your fault, and you’re now free to go.”
Stacy huffed and headed to the door. “You don’t have to tell me twice. But I’ll tell you this once, twice, or a hundred times if need be: this place stinks deep down to the core, and I’m not talking about your toilets. Whoever’s responsible for this mess had better watch out. You’ve crossed the wrong person, buster.”
Wadsworth stared at the floor and nodded. Stacy left the room, slamming the door behind her.
Chapter
“Lehigh, I swear. I never even got a traffic ticket before today,” Stacy said to Lehigh a few hours later, as he drove her home from the sheriff’s headquarters. “Much less a grand jury summons.”
“They pulled the same type of crap on me last fall.” He checked his speed—five miles under. “This thing has the stench of Buck Summers all over it.”
“And Paul van Paten.” She shivered and cranked up the heat. She wished she’d brought her jeans, blouse, and sweater on her surprise visit home that morning. “He’s threatened to get me back for landing his sorry butt in jail. I’m sure his thuggish friends in high places are pulling strings to make my life miserable.”
“Reckon you’re right. But I doubt Paul will stop at manufacturing tickets and making subpoenas disappear.” He scowled and downshifted into his turn. “It’s criminal. We’re not safe, even with him in jail.”
“I asked Mr. Richards if there was anything we could do.” She sank down in her seat. “I didn’t like his response.”
“No doubt. Legal methods won’t scare a guy who’s already behind bars.” He pulled into her long gravel drive and parked in his usual spot alongside her empty spot closer to the door. “We gotta figure out how to get your car home.”
“I can’t believe they took my license!” She jumped out of the truck and slammed the door hard enough to rock the truck on its wheels. “How am I going to get to work?”
“I’ll drive you, of course.” He followed her to the front door and inside. The dogs scooted in ahead of him.
She sat on the couch, still wearing her coat, and patted the seat next to her. “We need to talk.”
Lehigh nodded and sat a foot away. She took a deep breath.
“Who was that woman with you in here today?”
He licked his lips. “Woman? Oh, you mean my attorney. She—”
“I need you to hire a new attorney, then.”
Lehigh blinked. “Why?”
Her eyes bored into his head. Her dark irises burned. “I saw you holding her. It wasn’t a brotherly hug.”
Lehigh lay back on the couch and blew out a long, slow breath, eyes closed. He lay there several seconds. “There’s nothing going on between Sam and me.”
“Oh, it’s ‘Sam’ now? Let me guess. She’s really smart, and she’s starting to make real headway on your case. You two are becoming ‘good friends,’ and she really understands you. You’re ever so grateful and just wanted to show some appreciation. Oh, and is she pretty? I bet you hardly even noticed. Right?”
He drummed his fingertips on his chest, opened his eyes. “Something like that. And I suppose I should just ignore the fact that you’ve been dressed only in a nightie all day?”
Her shoulders drooped. “No. Lehigh, I was trying to surprise you, and…everything got all messed up.”
Lucky stuck her wet nose into Stacy’s folded hands. She brushed the dog away. The hound curled up on the floor between them, joined by Diamond.
“All right, I get that,” Lehigh said. “Now, about Sam. The thing is, she is really sharp, she’s a great strategist, and has done a ton of work already. A new lawyer would have to repeat a lot of it—and I can’t afford it.”
“Think about this. Can you afford to lose me?” Stacy stood, stomped into the bedroom, and locked the door behind her.
***
Lehigh parked outside of the sheriff’s office about ten minutes before their scheduled appointment. A dark gray Lexus pulled in next to his pickup seconds later. Samantha Pullen got out and waved. He joined her on the walk up to the double doors of the entrance.
“I understand you had another little adventure since I saw you last,” she said with a smile.
“Stacy did, anyway.” He held the door open for her. “How’d you hear?”
“I spent much of the last hour at Constantine Richards’ office.” She waited outside the door and lowered her voice. “By the way, he called in a favor with his old buddy Jim Wadsworth, and convinced him to return her license to her. You can pick it up from Deputy Latner.” She nodded in the direction of the reception desk, where Dwayne stood, staring at his computer screen.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Carter,” Latner said. “You got an appointment, or have you found yourself some new trouble to get into this fine day?” He grinned like a mischievous third grader who’d just gotten away with something. Odd behavior for Dwayne, but then, everything seemed weird these days.
“I just figured I’d check on my room, see if it’s still as comfy as my last visit,” Lehigh said. Dwayne blinked, confusion written all over his face. Lehigh sighed. Sarcasm was a lost cause on simple minds. “I’m told you’ve got something for me?”
Dwayne searched under the counter and produced a white letter-sized envelope with Stacy’s name written across it in a neat, elegant script. “For your fiancée, but I reckon it’s okay to give it to you.” He handed Lehigh the envelope.
“We’re here to see Mr. Summers,” Sam said. “We’re a few minutes early.”
Latner squinted at the screen and shook his head. “I don’t see you on his calendar. Hold on a sec.” He picked up the desk phone receiver and dialed a few digits. Waited. “This is Dwayne. Mr. Carter and, uh, what’s your name, Miss?”
“Pullen. I’m Mr. Carter’s attorney.”
“Carter and a Miss Pullen are here to see Buck…oh. Okay. I’ll let ’em know.” He hung up and shrugged. “Sher–er, Mr. Summers regrets to have to cancel your meeting. Urgent business.”
Lehigh leaned on the counter. “What kind of urgent business?”
Dwayne shrugged.
“Are you sure?” Sam asked. “He and Mr. Ferguson were quite adamant that we resume our interview at precisely two o’clock.”
Dwayne shrugged. “The Reverend ain’t here neither. I’d a seen him come in.”
“Fine,” Lehigh said. “Their loss. I really didn’t want to talk to them anyway. I just wish they’d have called and saved us the trip.” And an hour of his lawyer’s expensive time. He bolted for the door.
“Lehigh, wait,” Sam called after him. Outside the door, she smiled. “This is good news. It means they’re probably not serious about pursuing you as a suspect.”
“Then who are they after?”
Her face clouded. “You’re not going to like my answer.”
She was right. He didn’t.
***
