deliberately chosen not to ask for it, either. “Well, no, but—”
“No buts about it. It’s clearly posted there’s no trespassing.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he took in her appearance. “What’s in the bags?”
“My camera and equipment.” Kyndal went for an innocent look, opening her eyes wide. She slid the camera bag into the crook of her arm and started to unzip it.
The sheriff moved quickly for a man his size. In one smooth move he stepped back and drew his gun. “Drop the bags!”
Kyndal’s heartbeat shot into overdrive. She released the bags with a thud beside each foot.
The sheriff spoke in a low, no-nonsense tone. “Now put your hands ’hind your head and turn around real slowlike. I’m placing you under arrest.”
Kyndal willed her legs to do as he commanded. A violent shiver made the rounds through her body. Under arrest? She’d never been arrested! This was all a mistake. Surely he’d listen to reason. “I’m sorry.” She fought to keep the vibration out of her voice. “Really. I was just trying to get some photographs of a cave. I didn’t think the owner would mind.”
A strong grip held her wrist and brought it down to the small of her back. She gasped as cold metal encircled one hand. The same grip on her other arm caused a surge of panic, but the sound of the closing handcuffs brought out sheer anger. Restraints were clearly uncalled for. “I can’t believe this!” Her ears burned with humiliation. “This is all a misunderstanding.”
The sheriff took her bags with one hand and her arm with the other and steered her toward his car. “Well, Miss Unbeliever, let’s get to the office so you can start explaining how you misunderstood all these signs.” A sarcastic chuckle curled his lips into a sneer. “Your English sounds pretty good to me. Now then, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you…”
CHAPTER THREE
THE GRAY BRICKS OF THE holding cell reflected Kyndal’s mood. Leaning back against the bars allowed a visual escape from that part of the reality, and she refused to make contact with the thin mattress on the cot that took up one wall. The only other fixture was a stainless-steel toilet stuck in the back corner. The thought of having to use the odious thing brought bile to her throat. She gripped the sheriff’s telephone tighter, trying to bring her nerves under control before she made the call.
When they’d first arrived at the Marshall County Sheriff’s Department, a teenage girl had been in the first cell. She was crying softly when the sheriff opened the door leading from his office into the narrow corridor that gave access to the cells. He stopped Kyndal in front of the girl.
“Melody,” he barked like a drill sergeant. “You know this woman?”
The girl shook her head and started to bawl. “N-No, sir. Isn’t my mom here yet? My stepdad’s gonna kill me.”
Sheriff Blaine’s grip tightened on Kyndal’s arm. He marched her past the empty second cell and into the last.
The girl’s incessant wailing had frayed Kyndal’s nerves to the point where she’d wanted to cry, too, but she’d fought the urge. Tears wouldn’t help. From what she’d seen, showing any sign of weakness to Sheriff Blaine was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
Later, after the sheriff came and removed Melody, things got eerily quiet for a few short moments. Suddenly, a burst of shouting ensued from the next room, and a man’s voice bellowed obscenities Kyndal never knew existed along with “smart-ass bitch,” “slut” and “little whore.”
Kyndal cringed at the abusive verbal attack. It reminded her of her second stepdad, Hal. Melody’s fears of her stepfather’s reaction were obviously well-grounded.
A couple of other male voices—Sheriff Blaine’s and a deeper one, perhaps a deputy’s—tried to calm him down.
Nothing had any effect until the sheriff threatened him with arrest. “We’ll be seeing a lot of Melody, and don’t think I won’t be checking out her condition.” Sheriff Blaine’s voice had an edge that would slide through metal. “So don’t go thinking you’re safe to tie into her when you get home. Now go on out front and let’s get these papers signed. I’m ready to get the hell finished with you.”
The door to the cell block opened. Sheriff Blaine’s heavy breathing preceded him down the narrow passage to Kyndal’s cell. He glared at her, red-faced, through the bars. “Made that phone call yet?”