Out Of Focus: An Adams Grove Novel Part 19

He turned, smiled, and saluted her.

She scrambled in her purse for a second, looking for a business card, then ran to his side. "Here's my card. I'll see you at five. Promise."

He smiled and tucked the card in his s.h.i.+rt pocket without even glancing at it. "I'm not worried."

She slid behind the wheel of the T-Bird and started the engine. What a stroke of luck. She opened the door and half stood. "I didn't even get your name."

He turned, walking backwards. "Scott."

"Thanks, Scott. I owe you. Big time."

"Get moving. You're late. But don't speed or you'll be later."

"Yeah, I've heard about the ticket-crazy cops out here. Thanks." The country had its advantages. She pulled the car out into the traffic, waving to her new friend as she pa.s.sed by.

Chapter Twenty.

Kasey felt an odd sense of deja vu as she drove Scott's T-Bird. The car was so much like Nick's. She wasn't sure if it was the same year or not. Even though she'd photographed many older cars in her career, she'd never paid close attention to their model years.

She turned on the radio. No AM sports station here. The sound of a country song with a catchy beat filled the car.

She pushed the gas a little harder to keep the T-Bird at the posted speed limit of sixty. This car didn't have the power of her Porsche, but she was on her way, thank goodness.

The bars on her cell phone lit up. She picked up the phone to dial Prescott and let him know she might be running late.

Just as she punched in the numbers, a siren wailed behind her.

She pulled over so the policeman could pa.s.s, but he followed her off to the shoulder of the road. I know I wasn't speeding. She put her phone on the seat and cranked down the window. A young officer walked up to the car, one hand on his hip, the other on his gun. The gun looked proportionately large for such a small guy "Good afternoon." She smiled her best give-me-a-warning smile. It had never let her down.

"License and registration, ma'am."

She handed him her license, then looked in the glove box for the registration. "I'm sorry, officer. The registration doesn't seem to be here."

He smirked. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

She pushed her sungla.s.ses to the top of her head. "I don't know. Happens all the time, huh?" Isn't this where he was supposed to notice her pretty brown eyes and winning smile and let her go with just a warning?

"Ma'am, please step out of the car."

She blinked in surprise. "Excuse me? For what?"

"Ma'am." He s.h.i.+fted the hand on his holster. "I asked you to please get of the car."

"Yes. Okay." She fumbled with the lap belt and then with the door handle of the unfamiliar car. She stepped out on to the pavement feeling humiliated. There was a lot of traffic. She would swear that cars were slowing down and people were staring at her. Funny how no one had been interested when she was broken down on the side of the road, but they all wanted to see this.

"I'm in a hurry, but I wasn't speeding," she explained.

"Please step around to the back of the car here, ma'am."

"Is something wrong?"

"Anything you want to tell me?"

"I'm late?"

"Put your hands on the trunk of the car, please."

Kasey took a step back from the officer. "Now wait a second."

He dipped his head in a very serious way. His voice was calm but firm. "Ma'am. Do as I say, please."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

Unbelievable. What else could go wrong?

She spun around and placed her hands on the trunk of the car. Just like on Cops.

"Do you have any weapons or anything I need to know about on your person or in the vehicle?"

"No-oo." Kasey suddenly felt guilty though she knew she had no reason to. "Absolutely not."

The officer peered into the car. "What's in the bag?"

"Camera equipment."

"Out taking pictures?"

"I'm late for a shoot in Richmond. I'm a photographer."

"This your car?"

She shook her head. "No."

"I didn't think so." He pulled one arm behind her back.

Her eyes shot wide. She looked over her shoulder at the officer as he pulled her other arm behind her back.

"What the heck are you doing?" Kasey said. "I didn't do anything. I wasn't even speeding."

She heard a zipping sound. Her hands were bound behind her. "That's what happens, ma'am, when you steal a car. You get caught eventually."

"Steal? No. You don't understand."

He pushed her toward the cruiser. Pa.s.sers-by stared.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure you have a story to tell me. They all do. We'll do that in town."

"I told you the truth. My Porsche broke down. I borrowed this car to get to my meeting."

"Your Porsche?" His look told her that he didn't buy her story.

"I swear. Run the tag. You can check."

"You'll have to just get in the back of my Caprice Cla.s.sic because my Ferrari is in the shop," he said with a smirk.

"Go back and look. My car is on the side of Route 58."

"Whose car is this?"

Her mind went blank.

What was his name?

"He stopped to help me. It was...."

Come on, what was his name?

"It wasn't Nick...It was Scott."

"Yeah, okay. Good guess from the license plate." The officer nodded at the vanity tag on the back of the car that read GR8SCOTT.

"I promise I'm not lying." She pulled away from him, but he grabbed her and guided her to the back of his car. He pushed down on the back of her head and forced her onto the backseat of the cruiser.

"This can't be happening to me."

The officer walked back to the T-Bird. He removed the keys from the ignition, pushed the lock on the door, and slammed it shut. He sauntered back to the cruiser as if he thought he'd just saved the world. Kasey was so angry she couldn't even look at him.

He got into the car and s.n.a.t.c.hed the transceiver from the dash to call in the details of her arrest. She didn't bother to listen. It didn't sound like anyone else was listening to him either, because no one responded.

There was no way she'd get to her meeting on time now. Just when things had been going so well, too. Her last hope drifted out of sight as they pulled onto the road heading to who-the-heck-knew-where.

Kasey leaned forward and spoke through the part.i.tion that protected him from her. "Sir. Excuse me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Yechh. If he called her ma'am once more, she'd clobber the little guy. Good thing he'd tied up her hands. "What's your name?"

"Taylor," he said with a northerner-come-south drawl that made it sound like there was an extra L in there somewhere. "Dan Taylor."

"Sheriff Dan Taylor?"

The young man smiled. "Deputy Dan Taylor."

She flopped against the back of the seat. Deputy Dan. Well this just gets better and better. Sounds like a cartoon character. There was nothing she could do about this now. She might as well relax and resign herself to rescheduling her appointment with Preston. Hopefully it wouldn't compromise her arrangement with his company. It was one of her favorite jobs. The new prototypes were fun to photograph. But she sure couldn't tell Preston she'd been arrested on suspicion of grand theft auto.

The cruiser stopped. Kasey looked out the window. Spratt's Market in huge letters spanned the side of a concrete building. Market? Geez, was he going to parade her all over town?

He had better not leave me out here while he goes grocery shopping.

Deputy Dan got out of the car and opened her door.

"You're taking me to the market?" She couldn't refrain from the smarta.s.s tone that came with the statement.

He glared at her, less than amused. "Let's go."

Frustrated, she puffed not-so-nice names for him under her breath and scooched to the edge of the seat. With her hands bound behind her, getting out proved to be harder than she'd imagined.

The deputy helped her to her feet, then spun her around to face a brick building with the words POLICE DEPARTMENT emblazoned across the front.

"I stand corrected," she mumbled.

"Walk." He gave her a little push.

She glared at him. "I'm walking."

I'll have his badge, d.a.m.n it.

They made the short walk across the parking area and through the heavy wooden doors of the building. Once inside, Kasey stifled a laugh as she looked around. The place resembled the set of the old Andy Griffith Show. The desks and gun cabinets lined the right side of the s.p.a.ce, and four barred jail cells-all of them empty-were situated on the left side. Did they have a town drunk who slept off a night or two here as if it were a modern-day Mayberry timeshare?

He parked her in a scarred wooden chair next to a metal desk that had seen better days. She wiggled and s.h.i.+fted in the chair, trying to get comfortable with her hands secured behind her. He opened a couple drawers, searching for something, and came up with a checklist.

I'm probably his first arrest.

Deputy Dan used his finger to keep his place as he read the list.

"Name?"

"Ka.s.sandra Phillips."

"Address?"

"You've got my license. It's all on there."

He shot her a look.

"Fine." She gave him the information and wished like heck she'd taken I-64 instead of Route 58 this morning.

Deputy Dan leaned in toward the screen to review what he had entered, backs.p.a.cing more than he typed. He struck the keys with a slow monotony that had her wanting to offer to type for him.

"Look. Don't I get a call or something?"

"Not yet."