One Night

by Debbie Macomber

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Carrie cried. “You can’t honestly believe Kyle and I are criminals. Why that’s so ludicrous it’s laughable.”

  “And now, if you men will excuse us,” Kyle announced, “we’ll be on our way.”

  Carrie pushed herself away from the table and stood, eager to leave. She’d had a full day, considering everything that had happened.

  “It might be a good idea if you stayed around town for a few days,” the sheriff instructed, his hard eyes trained on them.

  “Not a chance,” Kyle said. “We have a schedule to maintain. Once I’ve got the car fixed, we’re out of here.”

  “Right,” Carrie said, nodding emphatically. “We’re out of here.”

  “I believe we’ve answered your questions,” Kyle said stiffly. “I can’t say it’s been a pleasure, gentleman, but it has been an experience.”

  “You gonna let them go?” Sheriff Collins was studying the government agents. Apparently he was waiting for their word to lock Carrie and Kyle in jail and throw away the key.

  “We don’t have any reason to hold them,” Bates muttered.

  “I just wish to hell we knew what was going on in Sanders’s mind.”

  “If you knew that,” Carrie said with a sassy smile, “you’d have him in custody now instead of two innocent bystanders.” Kyle opened the door for her, and together they walked out into bright sunlight.

  Carrie squinted, flattened her hands against her stomach, and inhaled a deep breath of fresh air. Unfortunately this reminded her how hungry she was. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”

  Kyle didn’t say anything right away. “You’re hungry?” He repeated it as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

  “This is the way I deal with stress.” At the moment she could have eaten her way through a Las Vegas buffet. The sandwich and chips weren’t an adequate snack, and it was nearly dinnertime.

  “You want something to eat now?”

  It wasn’t as if this should be any revelation to Kyle. They’d worked together long enough for him to know her idiosyncrasies.

  “Fine,” he muttered. “Find something to eat and I’ll meet you later.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, hurrying to keep pace with him.

  “I’ll make arrangements to get back to my car.”

  How like a man to worry about his precious car over his stomach, Carrie thought. “Isn’t it more important to find someone to tow it into town?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” It seemed to her that Kyle should be more concerned with finding out how long it would take to have the car repaired so they could go on their merry way. The second they left Wheatland, she was going to suggest they head back to the highway.

  He didn’t answer her right away. Instead, he rubbed his hand along his face and looked beaten and tired. Carrie understood why. They were causing something of a distraction in town. People were staring. She realized there wasn’t any help for it. All they could do was see about the car and leave as soon as possible. From the looks coming their way, they were marked as troublemakers.

  “I need to find out something before I call a tow truck,” Kyle said, under his breath. The way he acted, one would think he was afraid of being overheard.

  “Find out what?” she asked in a heated whisper, following him. Her growling stomach was forgotten for the moment.

  “What the agent said made sense,” he continued in low tones. “Sanders had to have a reason to stop and help us the way he did, and I think I know what it was.”

  “What?” Carrie was practically trotting to keep pace with him. He was walking with purposeful strides toward the edge of town. She had yet to figure how he intended to get back to the car.

  “It doesn’t matter, Carrie. Go find yourself something to eat, and I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Not on your life! I’m in this too. If you’ve thought of something, tell me.”

  Impatiently, Kyle glanced her way and his mouth tightened. She hated it when his lips got thin and his eyes flashed with disdain. Heaven knew she’d seen him do it often enough.

  “Besides, shouldn’t you be telling this to the authorities?”

  Kyle shook his head. “I don’t dare. It might implicate us.”

  “How?” Carrie lifted the hair away from her face, took in a single deep breath, and held it. Who would have ever believed such a little thing would lead to this?

  “If my theory’s right, Sanders left the counterfeit plates with us.”

  Carrie stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. Kyle had gone a number of steps before he so much as noticed. “He did what?” she called, racing to catch up with him.

  “Don’t look so worried, it’s just a theory.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. His expression was as intense as she’d ever seen it. “I want you to stay here. Do whatever you need to do to kill time. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  She shook her head, but before she could protest, Kyle gripped her by the upper arms and stared intently down at her. “It has to be this way.”

  “But how are you going to get back to the car?”

  “I’ll hitchhike, and if no one picks me up I’ll run. It isn’t nearly as far as we first thought. It’s less than eight miles, probably closer to six.”

  Before she could argue with him, she saw a black BMW being towed into town. “I don’t think you’re going to have a problem checking out your theory,” she assured him with a smug smile, “especially since your car’s here now.”

  Kyle wasn’t in the best of moods, and being detained by two Secret Service agents didn’t improve his humor any. He’d figured from the moment they left Kansas City that this wasn’t going to be any joy ride. But he’d anticipated his trouble would involve Carrie, not the Secret Service and some small-town sheriff intent on proving his worth. Least of all, he hadn’t expected to run into a counterfeiter.

  He left Carrie and walked across the street to see exactly how long it would take to have the muffler, exhaust, and gas tank repaired. As for his theory about Sanders storing the plates in his car, he’d check that out later, although if it proved true, he wasn’t exactly sure what his options were.

  He didn’t trust the sheriff. The Secret Service agents had left town; he’d seen them drive away. The way he figured, they’d probably gotten some updated information about Max Sanders. By now, he suspected, they’d have had time to do a background check on both him and Carrie and know they were squeaky clean. He wasn’t as convinced that the sheriff shared their view. Kyle wanted to get out of Wheatland, and the sooner they could be on their way the better.

  After looking both ways, he jogged across the street. As soon as he was on the sidewalk on the other side, the sheriff stepped out from between two cars.

  “Howdy,” he said, touching the brim of his hat, as if it was important to retain protocol.

  “Hello,” Kyle answered cautiously.

  “You just cross that street?” he asked.

  Kyle looked over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

  “Don’t suppose you saw the crosswalk?”

  Kyle shook his head, “Can’t say I noticed.”

  Sheriff Collins scratched the side of his head. “I’m sorry to do this to you, boy. You seem like a decent enough sort. I’m not so sure about your friend, though.”

  “Carrie?”

  The sheriff stuck his thumbs in his belt and leaned back on the heels of his polished boots. “These things happen when you start mingling with the wrong crowd.”

  “What things?” Kyle demanded.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to lock you up,” he said, reaching for Kyle’s elbow.

  “What’s the charge?”

  The sheriff smiled as if he’d personally caught him red-handed in Wheatland’s bank vault. “Jaywalking.”

  4

  Kyle paced the confines of his jail cell until he heard the sheriff’s door open. It was Carrie. Her red face and
snapping eyes told him she was madder than hops.

  Glaring at him, she ground her hands into her hips, stood with her feet apart, and demanded righteously, “What’d you do now?”

  Kyle swore this woman had the power to irritate him beyond reason. Her attitude suggested he was a regular jailbird.

  “I didn’t do anything,” he shot back.

  “Oh, sure, they trumped up some charge and tossed you in the clink for no good reason. ‘Go get yourself something to eat,’ you said, and the minute my back was turned you do something stupid and get yourself arrested. Just tell me what the charges are, and I’ll see what I can do to get you out of this mess.”

  “All right. If you must know, I was arrested for jaywalking.” Kyle knew the charge was merely an excuse to detain him. What he didn’t know was why Sheriff Collins felt it was necessary.

  “Jaywalking?” Carrie repeated incredulously, stunned enough to drop her arms at her side. She recovered, however, and grinned widely.

  “It isn’t nearly as amusing from this side of the bars,” he told her. By then Carrie was laughing and trying to disguise the fact, which did little to improve his disposition.

  “If you’ll stop laughing long enough, I’ll tell you what you need to do to get me out of here,” he said stiffly.

  “Sorry,” she murmured and cupped her mouth with her hand, but her dark eyes fairly danced with mirth. She pulled out a chair, sat down, and casually crossed her legs. “I really am sorry, Kyle. This whole thing is so ridiculous that it’s either laugh or cry.”

  He wasn’t appeased, nor would he be until he could escape this godforsaken town.

  “All right,” she said, “what is it you need me to do?”

  “Find out when the bail’s set and do what you can to post it. Call Kansas City if you have to. Clyde will give you the name of a good attorney, if it comes to that.” He couldn’t stand still, but pacing did damn little to alleviate his irritation, so he stalked from one end of the cell to the other. He wanted out of there as quickly as it could be arranged.

  “Who sets the bail?” Carrie asked.

  “The hell if I know. Probably some backwoods judge.”

  “Okay, I’ll get right on it.” She hurried out the door.

  The minute she was gone, surprisingly, Kyle wished he could call her back. Sighing deeply, he walked into the shadows and sat down on the edge of the thin mattress that made up his cot. Rubbing his hands over his face, he sorted through his limited options.

  Several matters didn’t set right. He’d had time to think about his and Carrie’s encounter with Max Sanders, and there were a number of unanswered questions.

  It seemed to him that Sam Richards, the Secret Service agent, wasn’t stupid either. Richards must have suspected Sanders had planted the counterfeit plates in his BMW long before the idea struck Kyle. While Carrie and he were detained, Kyle guessed that his car would have been gone over with a fine-tooth comb.

  Carrie claimed she’d seen Sanders on Unsolved Mysteries, but no one seemed to know anything about that. Yet there was something vaguely familiar about the felon, something Kyle couldn’t put his finger on. Carrie had noticed it first. Kyle also thought he’d seen the counterfeiter before, but he had yet to figure out where or when. It’d come to him, he decided, in time.

  What surprised him most was that he’d rather liked Sanders. Sure, the guy had waved a gun at them, but it was a bluff and Kyle had known it, somehow. When he could, he’d do a background check on Sanders himself—he had his sources—but his guess was the guy wasn’t the violent sort.

  The door opened, and Sheriff Collins strolled into the room. He tucked his thumbs inside his belt and smiled smugly. “We don’t want no trouble, son. You have to understand I’m just doing my job.”

  Kyle wouldn’t give the sheriff the satisfaction of a reply.

  “Your little woman is raising all kind of cain,” the sheriff commented in passing. “Why, she threatened to contact the Attorney General of these United States if Judge Hawkins didn’t immediately set your bail.”

  If for nothing else, Kyle could appreciate Carrie for her talent as a rabble-rouser. The woman had a gift for irritating just about everyone. One thing he’d say for her, she had spunk. The trait had driven him to the brink of madness in past months, but now he found himself deeply appreciating it. By all that was fair he should inform the sheriff that Carrie wasn’t his woman, but he decided to let the lawman worry about what she might do in order to save her man.

  The door to the sheriff’s office flew open and Carrie, ignoring Sheriff Collins, hurried over to Kyle’s cell. “How much money do you have on you?” she demanded without preamble.

  Kyle reached into his rear pocket for his wallet, which he’d been allowed to keep. “A little less than a hundred dollars.”

  “Damn,” she said. “That isn’t enough.”

  “For what?”

  She stared at him. “For your bail. Judge Hawkins set it at two hundred and fifty dollars, and between us we’ve got less than two hundred.”

  “Here.” Kyle reached inside his wallet for his VISA card. “Use this.”

  “Do you honestly think I’d ask for your cash if they took VISA? I hoped to get a cash advance, but the bank’s already closed.”

  Kyle checked his watch and was surprised to realize it was after four. When he looked up, he found Carrie sitting at the table where they’d spent a good portion of the afternoon being interrogated. She was carefully counting out the cash they had between them. It would greatly help matters if Sanders hadn’t driven off with their traveler’s checks.

  “Did you find out about the damage to my car?”

  She nodded and continued to count. “It’s not as bad as it looked. The mechanic said he could patch up the gas tank and weld the muffler and exhaust pipe back on without much of a problem, but he strongly suggested you have your mechanic in Kansas City look at it again, once you’re home. By the way, he’ll take VISA.”

  “Great. Now what about the bail money?”

  “You’re sure this is all the cash you have?”

  “I’m sure.” Apparently she assumed he kept a hundred-dollar bill stored in the bottom of his shoe.

  “That’s what I thought.” Her face fell. He noticed she was twisting the opal ring on her right hand until it was all he could do not to ask her to stop. He didn’t know why she insisted on wearing such a traditional-looking antique ring when she chose to dress like Madonna most of the time.

  “There’s got to be some way of coming up with some cash,” he said, more to himself than to her. It seemed spending the night in this flea-ridden jail was unavoidable, but the thought of any more time than that was intolerable.

  “I’ll get it,” Carrie said, and her eyes glowed with a determination he recognized as unbeatable. He’d butted heads with her often enough to know what she could be like when she set her mind on something.

  “How?” he asked.

  “Easy.” She flashed him a lazy smile. “I’ll sell—something.” With that she placed her hand delicately upon her hip and tossed him a smoldering glance over her shoulder. “See you later, big boy.”

  Kyle’s heart stopped. “Carrie,” he yelled, wrapping his hands around the bars and squeezing them so tightly his knuckles went white. “Don’t do anything stupid. You’ll be thrown in jail yourself.”

  Kyle had never seen a woman who could move her hips quite the way Carrie did as she made her way to the door with a provocative gait that really focused his attention.

  “Carrie, stop. Let’s talk about this.” He could feel his heart start to race, and it irritated the hell out of him to realize she’d succeeded in soundly arousing him with her little act.

  She paused at the door, smiled prettily, and then blew him a deliberate kiss. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be back in no time with all the money we’ll need.”

  “Carrie. Don’t you dare leave this office.” She pretended not to hear him and walked calmly out the door. “Ca
rrie! I demand that you stop, right this minute!” Furious, Kyle rattled the bars until he banged his head against the steel rail hard enough for a knot to form. He rubbed his forehead, kicked the wall, and damn near broke three of his toes.

  He might have yelled out in pain if Sheriff Collins hadn’t laughed. “That’s quite some woman you’ve got there.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to shout that Carrie wasn’t his woman, that they disliked each other intensely, had found it impossible to get along, and decided they couldn’t work together. All at once, he found he couldn’t say it. Not because it wasn’t true because, God help them both, it was cold, hard fact. Yet in the space of a single afternoon, they’d become allies. At the moment, Carrie Jamison was his only contact with the outside world. He needed her. And if the ache in his loins was any indication of his feelings, he was beginning to experience a whole new range of emotions toward her.

  Still chuckling, Sheriff Collins left the office. Kyle guessed he was going to see if Carrie had made good on her word.

  Carrie loved it. Kyle had actually believed she intended to sell her body for the cash needed to spring him from the slammer. Apparently the newscaster had an elevated opinion of her charms—and a low opinion of her morals. She wasn’t sure if she should be elated or depressed.

  Traipsing across the street, Carrie made certain she was in a designated crosswalk. The last thing they needed was for her to land in a jail cell alongside Kyle.

  The pawnshop was getting ready to close when she walked reluctantly inside. She hated to part with her grandmother’s opal ring even if it was only for a few days.

  “Can I help you?” the shopkeeper greeted her, leaning against the glass counter. He was a small, bald man with beady eyes who studied her movements as if he expected her to pull a gun from her purse and demand his money. Given her introduction to Wheatland, she couldn’t say she blamed him.

  As it turned out, the transaction went fairly smoothly. Within a matter of ten minutes, Carrie had the cash she needed, and she’d extracted from Mr. Dillon a promise that he wouldn’t sell the opal. The only stipulation was that she contact him sometime within a week. No problem. The ring was too precious to her to give up voluntarily.