No Gravestone Left Unturned (A Jane Ladling Mystery 2)
Page 34
Bile burned her throat. She’d let her outrage upset her level, rock steady sense.
“I’m going to put you in the back of my car and call your special agent to come get you,” he continued in that same easy tone.
Guilt continued to well. “Is that what you’d normally do?” she asked, her throat thickening.
He rocked back on his heels. “No. I’d haul you in for reckless endangerment.”
Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel, her nails digging into the unforgiving steel. She dragged in a breath, held it, then let it go slowly. “No, I can’t let you give me special treatment. Guess I gotta learn this lesson the hard way.” She loosened her death grip and shoved her hands through the open window, ready for him to cuff her wrists. “Uphold your sworn duty and take me to jail.”
He scratched his thick white beard. “Now, hold on a minute. There’s no reason to—”
“Don’t you dare show me an ounce of leniency,” she chided, already pushing her way out of the vehicle.
“Stop being dramatic, Jane.”
She sputtered for a moment. “Caring about the animal kingdom is dramatic to you?” Wow. Just wow. “When did you lose your compassion, Sheriff?”
“You should care about people as much as animals.”
“Now who’s being dramatic? By the way, I help pay your salary, and I’m demanding you haul me to the clink this instant.”
Pedestrians watched unabashedly from the sidelines—most of the people she was supposed to care about were filming the interaction from a safe distance with their cell phones.
No wonder she preferred animals. Still, she pressed her hands over her heart, calling, “Don’t worry. Sheriff Moore is teaching me the terrible cost of participating in a high-speed chase.”
“Jane—”
“I’m done arguing about this, Sheriff. You lock me in the slammer and throw away the key, or I’ll be lodging a formal complaint with the city council. Then I’ll come after your job! I’ll find a way to become the next sheriff, just see if I don’t.”
“Lord save us all,” he muttered. Heaving a sigh, he reached for his cuffs. “Jane Ladling, you have the right to remain silent...”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Gotta start somewhere!”
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The next morning, Jane paced the six feet length of her sterile jail cell until the bottom of her shoes no longer clacked. As the hours passed, more and more of the caffeine faded from her system, and more and more regret inundated her. Now she was certain she should spend the rest of her life rotting in here, surrounded by plain, gray brick and a stainless-steel toilet.
When she grew tired of pacing, she sat on the thin cot, alternating between stewing on her wrongdoing and lamenting her troubles. The Kirklands currently roamed free, and they clearly had an agenda.
Last night, she’d used her one and only phone call to rehire Tony via his voicemail. In her message, she instructed him to reach out to Conrad, Beau and Fiona. Fiona was to care for Rolex, and the boys were to inform Hightower about the Waynes’s activities, search for any evidence they might have planted, and investigate Blake Crawford. Oh, and they were not to bail Jane out for any reason.
Had Tony done it, or had he failed her? He must have succeeded, considering no one had attempted to spring her.
While her sights remained on Abigail, Robby and Landon, she refused to rule out her attorney completely. For all she knew, he was aiding the threesome.
Had news of her arrest spread through town faster than peach butter on warm toast? Surely. So, what came next, legally speaking? On TV, people made a plea in front of the judge, followed by a dramatic bail pronouncement, ending with a climactic pounding of the gavel.
Jane had only one response planned: Guiltier than charged!
Fatigue wound its way through her limbs, and she curled into a ball. Everything was catching up to her. Worrying over Rolex’s safety. Discovering no good, dirty evidence planters on her property. Thinking her home had been desecrated once again. Late nights studying Ana’s notes. Tossing and turning, missing Conrad. A high-ish speed car chase. Losing her hat. The stress of not seeing the Kirklands in the cell next to hers.
Heavy footsteps caught her attention, and she sucked in a breath.
When the sheriff appeared, she jumped to her feet. “About time. You haven’t even taken my fingerprints or mugshot yet.”
He sighed. Keys jingled, and the bars creaked open. “You’re free to go. Just do everyone a favor and drive safe.”
“But—”
“Walk yourself out of the cell or I carry you. Your choice.”
Jane humphed at him. “Just know I’m doing this under duress.” Head high, she marched past him and stomped down the hall.
“Wrong way,” he called.
Well. There went her perfect exit. She stomped back to his side.
His lips quirked the barest fraction as he pivoted and led her out of the three-story maze of offices, hallways, and stairs.