Читать книгу The Heartbreak Sheriff - Эль Кеннеди, Elle Kennedy - Страница 9

Under arrest. Sarah couldn’t wrap her head around it as she silently endured the humiliation of getting her fingerprints taken and posing for a mug shot. A mug shot.

How was this happening?

I’m not a killer! she wanted to scream as Anna Holt inked up the pads of the fingers on her left hand.

It wasn’t Anna’s fault, the woman was just doing her job, but Sarah was having trouble remembering that as the deputy gently took the impression of her thumb.

“It’s procedure,” Anna apologized, her dark eyes swimming with compassion. “But we do already have them on file, you know, from that Proactive Crime thing you did in high school.”

And, boy, didn’t she regret that decision now. For her senior-year law course, she’d done an independent study on crime prevention, with the hypothesis that if citizens were required by law to submit fingerprints and DNA, crime in an area would reduce drastically. As part of the project, she’d organized a program called Proactive Crime, which involved getting all the seniors to submit prints and saliva swabs to the police. Which meant that her information was in the Serenade department database.

And for some inconceivable reason, she’d been flagged when the Donovan evidence had been logged in.

Sarah’s head continued to spin as she followed Deputy Holt down the narrow staircase leading to the basement of the station. She’d never been down here before, but she knew what she would find. They were going to put her in a cell.

Because she’d been arrested. For a crime she hadn’t committed.

Again, how was this happening?

Sarah felt all the color drain from her face as she got her first glimpse of what a jail cell looked like. Seeing one in a movie didn’t count. This was real. And terrifying. Her pulse raced as she stared at the long row of small cells lining the lockup area. The steel bars seemed to glare at her in accusation. The clinking of keys sounded, and she turned to see Anna unlocking one of the doors.

“You’ll have to wait in here until your lawyer arrives,” Anna said softly.

The metal door creaked as the deputy dragged it open. Sarah’s hands trembled. The cell was maybe fifteen by fifteen, boasting a narrow cot with a thin wool blanket. That was it. No toilet. No window. Nothing but this claustrophobia-inducing little space, illuminated by a single bulb dangling from the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” Anna added.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Sarah willed up some courage and forced herself to walk into the cell, head high. She only prayed that the criminal lawyer whose name she’d picked at random from the yellow pages showed up soon.

When she was on the other side of the bars, Anna dragged the door closed, and both women flinched as she locked it into place. “The sheriff will be down soon,” the young woman finished in a strained voice.

Tell him not to bother.

Sarah swallowed down the bitter retort, then watched as the deputy hurried across the cement floor in the corridor. Her footsteps faded, and then Sarah was alone.

In jail.

She sat on the cot and reached up to rub away the tears pooling in her eyes. How could anyone think she’d killed Teresa? No matter what those damn DNA results said, she hadn’t been in Teresa’s house the night she died. She’d never been in that woman’s house.

So why did the evidence indicate she was there?

It was a question she’d been asking herself ever since Finn showed up at the gallery earlier, but so far, the answer continued to elude her. Well, not quite. The answer was actually simple: someone was framing her.

But that only raised a whole slew of new questions. First and foremost—what the hell?

She didn’t consider herself Ms. Popularity or anything, but people in town liked her. Even after her breakdown, most of the folks stood by her, offered their support during her struggle.

Not all of them, a voice laced with hostility pointed out.

That’s right. One person had no problem leaving her to face it alone.

As if his ears had been burning, Finn suddenly appeared in front of the bars. When she noticed the anguish creasing his handsome features, all she could think was too little too late. He could look as devastated as he wanted, act as concerned as he felt like, but she didn’t need his damn support. He hadn’t given it to her when it actually mattered, and she had no use for it now.

“The lawyer you called just phoned,” Finn said gruffly. “He’ll be here in two hours.”

Two hours?

She willed away a fresh batch of tears. Okay. Two hours. She could do this.

“Thanks for letting me know,” she said in a clipped voice.

She expected him to walk away, but he stayed rooted in place, studying her through the narrow bars.

“What?” she snapped.

“I just … are you okay in there?”

She gawked at him. “Are you serious? Do I look like I’m okay?”

Finn shifted, looking utterly miserable. His unmistakable turmoil did nothing to soothe her. Just being in the same room as this man brought back unwelcome memories, lingering pain that she’d tried desperately to overcome. It didn’t help that he was as gorgeous as ever, with those piercing blue eyes and scruffy black hair. The broad, muscular body that used to send a thrill up her spine, the roped arms that once brought her solace.

Patrick Finnegan had been the love of her life, the only man to ever have a complete and total claim on her heart.

But then he’d gone and broken that heart. Crushed it between his big, strong fingers, leaving her to drown in sorrow. Alone.

She hadn’t thought she’d ever recover from Finn’s betrayal. Hadn’t thought she’d ever be able to regain the capacity to love again. But she’d survived. Let go of the trauma of the past, became strong, stable, capable. And now she had Lucy, the beautiful baby girl she adored, who’d changed her entire life and gave her a sense of peace and fulfillment.

Oh, God, Lucy!

“What is it, Sarah?”

She’d forgotten he was still standing there, and when she lifted her head, she saw the alarm washing across his rugged face.

“Lucy,” she burst out, fear wrapping around her throat like a boa constrictor. “The day care closes at four. What time is it now?”

Finn glanced at the utility-style watch on his wrist. “One-thirty.”

Her lawyer wouldn’t show up for two hours, and even then, he might not be able to get her out of here in time.

“I … I need to call the center,” she said, urgency lining her tone. “Maybe Maggie can take Lucy home with her when the day care closes. Or maybe …”

She trailed off, her terror amplifying. What if Maggie called social services when Sarah told her where she was? The owner of the day care might be gentle and kindhearted, but she probably wouldn’t be pleased to hear that the mother of her three-month-old charge was locked up. Maggie had mentioned during their initial interview that she had a legal duty to inform child welfare if the kids under her supervision weren’t being taken care of.

Sarah had only adopted Lucy three months ago, and it had been an arduous two-year process. Financially, she’d been in a good position to raise a child, what with the handsome inheritance she’d received from her aunt and the prosperous art gallery she owned and ran. But her history with depression had raised a red flag at the adoption agency. Sarah had endured dozens of home interviews, therapy sessions and surprise visits from her caseworker before finally being approved for the adoption.

But if social services were called … they would take Lucy away from her. God, she couldn’t let that happen. She’d waited two long years for Lucy—she refused to have her baby snatched out of her arms, not after everything she’d gone through in order to have the chance of being a mother.

She leaped off the cot and practically launched herself at the bars, wrapping both hands around the cold steel. “You need to do something for me,” she whispered.

Finn’s expression darkened with suspicion. “What do you need?”

“Bring Lucy here.”

He balked. “What? No way, Sarah. I can’t bring a baby to lockup!”

“Please,” she begged. “Please do this. If I tell Maggie what’s going on, she’ll have to inform social services. They’ll take my baby, Finn!”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and her hands begun to shake, vibrating against the metal bars. “Just bring her here, and then we can figure out what to do with her.”

Suddenly Finn’s large hands were covering her own, his warmth seeping into her cold, white knuckles. “Sarah. Sarah. Calm down.”

She realized her breathing had become shallow, as her head spun dizzily from the panic coursing through her blood. She was also aware that this was the first time Finn had touched her in four years, and as her heart rate slowed and she regained her senses, she yanked her hands away and pressed them to her sides.

She couldn’t let him touch her. Physically, or emotionally. Just being around him sent her back to that dark place, the hole she’d fallen into after he’d abandoned her.

“The mayor would have my head if he found out I brought a baby here,” Finn mumbled, averting his eyes. “I can’t do it, Sarah.”

“Please,” she said again. “I’ll call Maggie and tell her that I’m giving permission for Anna to pick up Lucy from day care. I’ll say I’m tied up at work. I’ll find somebody to leave her with, maybe …” A thought entered her mind. “Jamie. Jamie can take her home with her until I get out of here.”

“That could work,” Finn said grudgingly.

“Of course it will. You know Jamie won’t say no.”

He scratched his head. “Let me give her a call. I know Cole was released from the hospital today, so they should be at the cabin by now….” He removed his cell phone from the black case clipped on to his belt, edging away. “There’s no service down here. I’ll go upstairs to make the call.”

Sarah watched him go, relief flooding her body, mingled in with the gratitude over the fact that she’d befriended Jamie Crawford. A profiler with the FBI, Jamie had come to town two weeks ago to help Finn solve Teresa’s murder, and Sarah had immediately hit it off with the auburn-haired federal officer. She knew that Jamie would take care of Lucy in a heartbeat, even with Cole still recovering from the gunshot wound he’d incurred while saving Jamie from one of his ex-wife’s crazed lovers.

It floored her, the madness that had enveloped Serenade after Teresa’s death. Not only had Cole been a suspect, but Jamie had nearly been killed by a man who believed Cole had taken Teresa from him.

Damn that woman. Sarah had never been fond of Teresa in all the years she’d known her, and now she loathed her even more. If Teresa hadn’t gotten herself killed, Sarah wouldn’t be in this position right now.

But Teresa was dead, and now Sarah was framed for murder, stuck in a jail cell and separated from her child. Oh, and in close quarters with the man who’d broken her heart—might as well throw that tidbit on her growing list of Why My Life Is a Total Mess.

“Oh, my sweet girl. I’m sorry Mommy can’t take you home, but I promise you, Auntie Jamie will take good care of you.”

Finn’s heart ached as he watched Sarah cooing to her baby, as she held the child close to her breast and planted a gentle kiss atop Lucy’s head. They were in Finn’s office, since he hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of bringing the infant into Sarah’s cell. Sarah had spoken with the day care owner and arranged for Anna to pick up the child, and she hadn’t said a word to him as they’d waited, not even a thank-you.

Though he didn’t particularly blame her for not expressing any gratitude toward the man who’d arrested her.

But now she did speak, her eyes fixed on him as she asked, “When is Jamie getting here?”

“Any minute now.”

Satisfied, Sarah focused on the baby again, and Finn couldn’t help but notice the resemblance between mother and child. It was odd, considering that Lucy had been adopted, yet the baby had the same almond-shaped brown eyes as Sarah, the same creamy-white skin. Watching them together was almost mesmerizing, the way Sarah’s features softened as she gazed down at the baby, the way Lucy’s chubby little fingers wrapped around a lock of Sarah’s lustrous brown hair.

Finn forced himself to turn away, unable to fight the helpless feeling rolling around in his gut. He remembered a time when Sarah had looked at him with that same adoration. Before he’d broken her heart and ran as far away from her as he could, coward that he was.

But he’d grown up since then, and not a day went by that he didn’t regret his decision to leave Sarah. These past two weeks had opened his mind to the grave error he’d made. Watching Jamie fall in love with Cole Donovan had made him reassess his own empty life, made him realize that the only way to fill that gaping void was to win Sarah back.

Now any possibility of doing that had been squashed. Because, really, what the hell was he supposed to say to her?

Hey, I know I just arrested you, but how about getting back together?

Not likely.

“What happens when the lawyer comes?”

Sarah’s quiet voice jarred him from his thoughts.

“Can he get me out of here?” she continued, her voice quaking. “Will I be able to go home tonight?”

Pain lodged in his chest. He wanted so badly to reassure her, to tell her that she’d be holding her baby in her arms in no time, but the district attorney’s words buzzed in his head like an angry hornet. “You’ll need to stand in front of Judge Rollins for a bail hearing,” he said carefully.

Hope brightened her face. “And he’ll give me bail, right?”

“Most likely.” He glanced at the baby. “You’re a mother—I’m sure he’ll take that into consideration when he makes his ruling. But, Sarah …”

She peered at him sharply. “But what?”

“The hearing probably won’t be until Monday morning.”

Her breath came out in a shocked rush. “What are you talking about?”

“Rollins is in South Carolina for some golf tournament,” he admitted. “Unless your lawyer is a miracle worker, I don’t think the judge is going to hurry back for a bail hearing.”

The air in the small office turned as frigid as a snowy February morning. He almost winced under Sarah’s cold scowl. She was looking at him as if this was his fault, like he was the reason the judge was off on the fairway wielding a nine iron. Before she could yell at him—which she seemed to be preparing to do—a brisk knock rapped against the door, and then Jamie Crawford poked her head inside.

“Are you okay?” Jamie asked immediately, ignoring Finn as she hurried over to Sarah.

“I’m fine, now that you’re here,” Sarah said, sounding relieved.

Jamie wrapped one arm around Sarah’s shoulder, dwarfing the other woman with her height; at five-nine, Jamie loomed over Sarah’s five-foot frame. Then she turned to Finn with a fierce look. Wonderful. Two against one, and both females seemed to blame him for this mess.

“What is the matter with you?” Jamie asked, disbelief dripping from her words. “You know Sarah didn’t kill Teresa, Finn. I can’t believe you arrested her.”

“I had no choice.” He resisted the urge to rip out his own hair. “You both seem to be in denial over the fact that I’m the sheriff. On paper, I’m not supposed to answer to anyone, but that’s bull. This is politics, and the mayor and D.A. are pulling my damn strings.”

“The D.A. actually thinks he’s got a case?” Jamie demanded.

Finn nodded, then waited until Sarah shifted her attention to the baby before giving Jamie a pointed look. He does have a case, Finn communicated silently, and Jamie’s lavender eyes widened slightly as she received the transmission. As a federal agent, Jamie understood law enforcement procedures, and when her expression softened, flickering with sympathy, Finn knew she understood why he’d had to arrest Sarah.

“Okay.” Jamie squeezed Sarah’s arm, then moved to lean against the edge of the desk. “Okay. So what’s the next move? How do we get Sarah out of this?”

“All we can do is wait for the bail hearing,” he said grimly. “And if this goes to trial, Sarah’s attorney will build a defense for her. In the meantime, you and I will be busting our asses trying to find the real killer.”

Tension hung over the room, finally broken by a tiny wail of displeasure. Finn turned his head and noticed the baby’s cheeks had turned beet red. As Lucy began to cry, hiccupping between sobs, Sarah rocked her in her arms, but the gentle motions did nothing to soothe the suddenly cranky infant.

“You should take her home,” Sarah whispered, glancing over at Jamie.

It was clear that the last thing Sarah wanted to do was relinquish the child, and it nearly tore out Finn’s heart as he watched her hold Lucy in front of Jamie’s waiting hands. The baby’s cries only grew louder as she found herself in an unfamiliar pair of arms. Jamie rubbed the baby’s back and murmured a few words of comfort, which only seemed to further agitate the red-faced, squirming baby.

“Go,” Sarah choked out.

“Sarah—”

“Please, just go. There are diapers and bottles in the bag on Anna’s desk, and if you need more formula, you can stop by my house—the spare key is under the red flowerpot beside the porch.” Sarah seemed to be fighting tears. “Did you get the car seat?”

“Yeah, I stopped by the gallery like Finn asked and took it from your car.”

“Then you’re all set.” Sarah gave a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Sarah … I’ll take good care of her,” Jamie murmured. “I promise.”

“I know.”

As Lucy continued to wail, Sarah moved closer to brush her lips over the baby’s forehead. “Be good for Jamie,” she said softly.

Holding the crying infant, Jamie walked to the door, pausing only to shoot Finn a look that said, Fix this. Now. She left the office, and they could hear her footsteps in the bull pen. Lucy’s distressed cries grew muffled and then eventually faded as Jamie left the station with the baby.

Sarah stared at the door for an impossibly long time, before finally turning to Finn.

His stomach clenched at her lifeless expression. She looked as though someone had ripped the one thing she cared about right out of her arms, which, in fact, was what had just happened.

“Sweetheart,” he started, the old endearment slipping from his mouth before he could stop it.

The dull shine to her eyes exploded into a smoldering burst of anger. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

The vehemence in her voice had him stepping back, stricken.

“And don’t you dare pretend you’re going to help me get out of this,” she continued, her cheeks flushed with fury. “You got me into this. I don’t care what the evidence says, or what the D.A. thinks, you know I didn’t kill anyone!”

“And I’m going to help you prove that,” he said hoarsely.

“Don’t bother,” she snapped. “You’ve already proven that you’re incapable of standing by me when things get a little too tough for your liking. So, frankly, I don’t want or need your help, Patrick.” She was breathing heavily now. “Now take me back to my cell.”

“Damn it, Sarah—”

“Take me. Back. To my cell.”