His face didn’t change. “No,” he said firmly.
She blinked at his impassive look. She wasn’t used to this kind of unsympathetic opposition. It did tend to put her back up.
“What do you mean, no? My purse is back there. Someone might pick it up. All my money and my credit cards are in there.”
The cynical glint in his dark eyes deepened. “Listen, lady,” he said evenly. “Don’t bother to try a con on me. I’ve heard them all.”
A con? She almost smiled. She was the last person to try to con anyone. Most of her friends thought she was much too open and forthright as it was. But she kind of liked being thought of as a latent con artist. Still, this was the police. She probably ought to take him seriously.
“Well, I can’t prove who I am,” she told him brightly, pushing back her thick, curly hair with a casual motion that came to her naturally…and often. “But I can tell you, and you’re just going to have to take my word for it. Cami Bishop, from Marina Del Rey, California.”
His mouth twisted. He’d obviously noted her pushing back her hair and thought it an affectation that might even border on flirting. The set of his mouth told her he didn’t succumb to flirting. “A swinging California single, no doubt,” he said, almost sneering.
She squinted, trying to see him better. In the dark, with his hat pulled down low, all she could really make out was a hard mouth cut like a slash in granite and a pair of dark eyes that were colder than the icy wind that was making periodic raids on their position. She hesitated. Something about this man could give a girl chills.
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” she said, then tried one last grin. “But basically, yes.” And even at that, she couldn’t get a smile out of him. Oh well. “Anyway, I’m on my way to this baby shower…”
“Hold it.” Cocking his hat back, he stared at her for a long moment, then drew away from her window abruptly, as though he’d just thought of something, something that startled him.
“What?” She blinked at him, surprised.
“Just hold on.” he told her sternly, “I’ll get back to you.”
Rolling up her window to keep the snow out, she lifted her gaze to the rearview mirror to watch him walk to his patrol car, stamping his boots to clear a path. Why did these guys always seem to swagger? She supposed it was meant to make peons like her stay in line. Too bad. Lines and boundaries had never been her forte.
In a moment, he was back, and she only rolled down the window a crack this time. After all, there was a limit to the amount of snow she was going to let the wind whip in around her. It was freezing and she had no heavy coat.
Why she’d left Santa Fe in only this medium-weight linen suit was a question she would be asking herself later on, along with many others—such as, what sort of an idiot had she been to brave the mountains on a night like this? But that was all waiting for the moment when this trip was over and she would have the luxury of second thoughts and incredulous comments. For now, basic survival seemed more important.
“Get out of the car,” he said, his voice hard and authoritative.
“What?” She squinted, trying to see him better. He sounded meaner than before. And here she’d been hoping for a thaw in their relationship. “It’s snowing!”
“Get out of the car,” he ordered grimly, “face it, and spread your arms out.”
And that was when she noticed he had his gun drawn.
Her heart leapt into her throat. Suddenly things seemed very serious indeed. “What are you doing?” she gasped, staring down the black muzzle of the weapon.
“Get out of the car, face it, and spread your arms out.”
She swallowed hard. He had a bad habit of repeating himself, but she wasn’t about to call him on it now. For one split second, she considered starting up her engine and driving off as though all this had never happened. But that gun was just too ominous. And the snow was just too heavy. And most of all, his face was just too hard and cold.
“Okay,” she said hoarsely. “Just a minute. I’m getting out.”
She put her hands up so he could see she had nothing in them. Wasn’t that what they always did on TV? Then she stepped out, her soft leather shoes sliding a bit on the sleetcovered blacktop. She looked at him questioningly, shivering with the cold, and he gestured for her to turn.
“Spread your arms,” he said softly, but his softer tone seemed even more chilling and she complied quickly, gasping again as he stepped up close behind her and reached out to pat down her sides.
“This is insane,” she said sharply, pulling away from his touch.
“Hold still,” he ordered, taking control of her by the back of the neck the way a cat might a kitten. “And listen carefully to your rights. You have the right to remain silent…”
She shook her head slowly as he went down the list he was obliged to give her. He was arresting her. This was surreal. It couldn’t be happening. She’d just been driving along, on her way to Denver to see old friends and have a jolly time celebrating her college roommate’s new baby. That all seemed innocent enough, didn’t it? Just exactly when had she stepped out of the real world and into this wonderland where everything was upside-down?
It was all so strange. There was a break in the wind, and snow was falling in tiny, glittering flakes, falling silently all around, hitting her face with small, frosty impacts and melting there. It had been years since she’d even seen snow, not since her college days in Northern California, when they’d all packed up the car and headed for the mountains to try out the ski lifts. It always made her marvel how the snow could change the landscape in such a short time and never make a sound. It was like magic—as though some wizard had waved a wand and transformed everything when no one was looking. An enchanted episode.
And so was this whole situation. Was this really happening? Was she in the middle of some off-the-wall nightmare?
“If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”
She sighed and began to shiver uncontrollably. No, she wasn’t dreaming. It was all crazy, but very real.
“This is a joke, right? You’re just trying to scare me.” She half turned so that she could see his face again, look into his eyes, search for a spark of humor. “Hey, I promise. No more speeding, honest. I’ll be a good girl from now on. In fact, I’ll stay away from driving altogether and get myself a chauffeur. How about that?”
He didn’t seem to hear her, his eyes as opaque as ever. “Do you have any questions? Have you understood these rights I’ve just read you?”
She shook her head, feeling silly, and gripped her arms tightly around herself. “I don’t understand anything at all.”
His mouth twisted and he gestured toward her. “Hold your hands out behind your back.”
“What?”
The handcuffs were on before she knew what was happening, and she was so shocked she couldn’t utter a word.
“Let’s go.”
She turned to look at him, aghast. “But why?” she asked weakly, too stunned to fight for the moment. “What have I done?”
“Armed robbery, for starters.” He pointed her toward his car, and she went along in a fog of disbelief, his hand guiding her. “That was in Utah. Arizona said something about kidnapping. Colorado mentioned bunco. And then there was the little matter of a shooting in Laughlin, Nevada. Remember that one?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, dazed. “No!”