“—you’re under arrest.”
“For what?” Of course she knew, suspicion of murder, fleeing a crime scene, impeding an investigation. They’d pile on the charges and detain her. Then they’d find out that everyone she cared about in Amarillo thought she was dead. As soon as the police discovered she wasn’t, she’d be charged with the murder of whoever was in the clinic fire. And she shouldn’t forget about the embezzling and fraud charges that would be sure to follow.
Yes, she knew the answer to her own question...even if this cute detective didn’t.
“Fleeing the scene will get us started. I’m certain you’re wanted for something, since you’re pretty good at avoiding your real name.” He gestured for her to hold out her hands to be cuffed. “You know we’re going to find out from the prints. Right?”
She held both her hands in front of her, hoping they’d be loosely snapped over her thick gloves. No such luck. He pulled the black fur down, his thumb caressing her pulse.
Did he feel her heart racing?
He took the leash, put a hand on her head and guided her into the backseat of his car. He pulled the shoulder strap and buckled her inside, then gave Dallas a kiss-kiss sound and a gentle tug on her leash. The big, smiling Lab jumped across her, did a couple of turns and settled her head in Bree’s lap.
“I hate to ask, but could you get my suitcase? It’s on the other side of the bushes.”
“Yeah, I saw it.”
The door shut, the locks clicked and she was alone while the detective retrieved her stuff. As soon as his back was turned, she tried the door.
Childproof locks. She was stuck. Caught. Going to jail. She stroked Dallas’s soft fur, loving the comforting companionship. Somehow she just didn’t feel alone when the dog was around.
“Well, girl, I’m not certain what’s going to happen now. It breaks my heart to send you back to the pound.”
Dallas answered with a sweet sound just like she understood and was commiserating. Brenda Ellen had adopted Dallas four months ago and, honestly, probably never should have. The businesswoman traveled almost twice a month and was gone at least a week for each trip. “I’ve spent more time with you than she did. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
Sabrina dropped her cheek to the top of Dallas’s head. She was such a loving dog. The trunk opened and closed. It was time to explain everything to Detective Jake Craig. He was her last hope.
“Any chance you’re as hungry as I am?” she asked when he was inside the car and had adjusted the rearview mirror to see her.
“I grabbed a burger across the street from the pound while following your friend.”
“Oh.”
That new look crossing his face lifted one side of his tightly closed mouth, but it clearly indicated pity. She’d learned to recognize it very quickly, hating each time she’d received it over the past six months. But today, right this very minute, it seemed like a sign that her story may not fall on deaf ears.
“I’ve got some cold fries.” He held them out, his long arm extending over Dallas’s head.
“Thanks.” She shifted her position and held her hands out to take the carton. “Maybe this will keep my stomach from grumbling.”
“You should be glad I’ve got you in custody.”
“You think I should be glad to be on my way to jail?” She hated the prospect of being framed and having no one on her side trying to discover the truth.
“Who said anything about jail? Right now I just want some questions answered.”
When her family was notified she was alive, they’d be bombarded with questions and accusations, too. They’d only be happy for a moment, learning to hate her very quickly. They’d believe if she could lie about her death, she could lie about a murder.
They’d match her prints since they were on file with the state because of her business. He’d be questioning her right up until they discovered she was a dead woman. But she wasn’t—Brenda Ellen
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