Chapter Nineteen
The next morning, the Porsche started right up and Kasey left for Richmond to meet with Prescott. She twisted the knob on the radio to pick up a better signal and landed on an oldies station. She sang along with the Bee Gees and wondered if she’d make it to the appointment on time. Glancing between her speedometer and watch, she calculated she should have about ten minutes to spare.
She watched her speed since this stretch of road had a reputation for speed traps. Even so, as she cleared the next corner and saw the cop parked in the median with the radar gun pointing out the window, she couldn’t help but tap the brake out of habit. But instead of her car slowing down, it sputtered and choked. She gave it some gas and it smoothed back out. Relieved, she steadied her speed, but as she turned the next corner the engine went silent.
The steering became a chore without the power of the engine. She veered to the side of the road as the car slowed to a coast. In her rearview mirror, she saw a big rig barreling her way.
“No!” She slapped the steering wheel and cranked frantically on the ignition, but nothing worked. The car slowed to a crawl. She bounced in the seat, willing the car off to the side. Just as she made it to the shoulder, the semi swerved to the oncoming lane to avoid hitting her. The force of the wind pushed her tiny sports car the rest of the way off the road.
Her heart raced.
“Jesus!”
She released the steering wheel and leaned forward against it. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might honk the horn.
“That was too close.”
Her heart took its sweet time slowing down.
“Daggone it.” She pounded the steering wheel, got out of the car and walked to the rear where she opened the hood over the engine compartment? She stood staring at the engine with no idea what she was looking at. She reached in and wiggled some wires, then pulled out the dipstick and checked at the oil. Having been spoiled by the mechanics and Jeremy, she’d never seen any reason to learn much beyond the basics.
She hadn’t seen an exit for miles and didn’t see one on the straightaway ahead. Heck, she hadn’t passed anything except woods for at least three miles. How far would she have to walk to the next town or gas station?
Maybe that radar cop would come this way.
She went back to the driver’s seat and tried the key. Nothing.
She flipped open her phone, then rolled her eyes. No bars. No Service. “The one time I have an emergency, the doggone thing won’t work.”
Hiking up the road wasn’t a good option. Kasey didn’t have the time to walk for miles or the strength to carry all of her camera equipment. She couldn’t risk leaving it behind for someone to steal, either.
She walked about thirty feet forward to see if she could get a signal on her phone. No luck. She even held the phone in the air hoping it might miraculously catch a wave or something. Of course, that didn’t work either.
Why did I take this route instead of Interstate 64? Just to torture myself by going by the accident site again? When will I learn?
If she didn’t get a move on soon, she’d be late for her appointment. The International Auto Show was too good a gig to screw up, and really the first real job she had scheduled since the tour. Prescott Banks wasn’t the type to take being late lightly. Old fuddy-duddy.
Cars passed, but no one even slowed down. She hoped that radar cop would break for lunch and ride this way. He’d have to stop and help. Wasn’t it his duty to serve?
She looked at her watch. Not even five minutes had passed. It sure seemed longer standing there alone on the side of the road. Maybe the jokers who passed weren’t familiar with a rear engine car or were afraid they’d have to help her change a tire. All she needed was a phone and a ride. She slammed the cover over the engine and opened the trunk at the front of the car, praying that would change her luck.
The late January afternoon was sunny and warm. In the southeastern part of Virginia in January, it could be twenty-eight degrees and sleeting one day and in the high sixties the next. It really wasn’t unusual to have a few spring-like days sandwiched between snowfalls.
She scrounged around in her purse for a clip, fastened her hair up off her neck, and popped a piece of gum into her mouth. When she turned around, she almost swallowed her gum.
An antique baby-blue T-Bird was parked right behind her. The dark-haired man behind the wheel looked just like...
Nick?
Coughing to get the gum out of her throat, she reached into the car for her bottle of water. When she stood back up, the man was out of his car.
She exhaled. His car had a vanity plate. It wasn’t Nick’s. Wishful thinking or her mind playing tricks on her. But the T-Bird looked like Nick’s car, and the man had looked like Nick in silhouette.
He walked toward her. “You okay?”
She cleared her throat, trying to shake the chills that had scampered up her spine a moment ago. “I’ve been better.”
“Broke down?”
“Not exactly a picnic spot.” Kasey regretted the snarky response as soon as it left her lips.
He raised a brow and smirked as traffic whizzed by. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know. She just sputtered and quit.” Kasey propped her hand on her hip. “A big rig almost ran over me.”
“Probably electrical,” he said.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Is he going to help me, or just make friends?
“I’m late. Can you get me to a town so I can rent a car, or get a cab into Richmond? I have an appointment I can’t be late for.”
He’s too good-looking to be a murderer. Isn’t he?
“You live in Richmond?”
“No.”
“Oh.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“I just moved up this way.”
Why did I tell him that? Because his mouth moves like Nick’s—soft.
“Really? Where?”
“Over in Adams Grove.”
He met her gaze. “You must be the girl Huckaby has been talking about. The old Miller farm?”
“You know Chaz Huckaby?”
“Who doesn’t know Chaz Huckaby? Are you over on Nickel Creek Road?”
“Yeah. That’s it.”
“My mom lives over that way.”
“Really? Small world. It’s beautiful out there.”
“When’s your meeting?”
“One-thirty.”
He looked at his watch. “You’re going to be late.”
She waved the useless phone at him. “I know, and I can’t even call them and let them know.” She held the useless cell phone up in dismay. “My phone won’t work out here.”
He pulled his phone off a clip on his belt and dialed a number. “Hey, Bobby. I need your wrecker out on Route 58.” He looked around to get his bearings. “Just west of Capron near the old store...Okay...Sure...Black Porsche...Seriously...An hour? Great. Thanks, man.”
“An hour?” She tipped her head back, frustrated. “I knew I should’ve left earlier.”
“You can make it if you leave now.”
She motioned toward the car. “Yeah, well that isn’t happening.”
“Why don’t you take my car? I’ll wait for the wrecker. Bobby’s place is right there by Huckaby’s shop. We can meet up later today. After your meeting. Sound good?”
Is he serious?
“What makes you so sure I won’t steal your car?”
“I’m not worried,” he said.
“Shouldn’t take but a couple hours.”
“You can buy me dinner at Jacob’s Diner around five. Can you get back by then?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Have you been there? Jacob’s Diner, I mean. Best darn chicken anywhere.”
Kasey shook her head. “No. I haven’t been anywhere but Huckaby’s, but I know the way there.”
“It’s on the same block.”
“Are you for real?”
“Sure. He thumped the trunk of the Porsche. You did know the engine isn’t up here, right?”
“Yeah. I thought maybe people weren’t stopping because they thought I had a flat.”
“Good thinking. I’m sure this classic is as important to you as mine is to me,” he said. “I’d say if you run off with mine and I end up with yours, we’re about even. But you look honest, and you’re a neighbor. You better get going.”
“You’re not kidding.”
“No, now scoot. Geez, you city girls sure are full of suspicion.”
“I’ll need my equipment.” She leaned across the driver’s seat and grabbed her briefcase and camera bag.
“Need any help?”
“Thanks.” She handed him the heavy case, then headed toward the T-Bird with the bags hiked up on her shoulder. She put the equipment in the passenger’s seat, then stood with one foot in the car, watching him as he walked back to her Porsche. “I really appreciate this.”
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 shirt 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 passed by.
Chapter Twenty
Kasey felt an odd sense of déjà 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 pass, 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 sunglasses 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 shifted 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. Passers-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 Classic 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 snatched 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 partition 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 smartass 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, damn 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 space, 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 shifted 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?”
“Kassandra 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, backspacing 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.”
She tried to remain calm. “Can you take this thing off my wrists at least?”
“No. It’s policy. Until I put you in the cell, you must remain restrained. It’s for my safety.”
Pretty good damn policy, too, because she’d had about enough of this ridiculous situation and felt pretty sure she could kick his scrawny ass.
He asked her again about the vehicle.
“I already told you. His name is Scott.”
“What’s his last name?”
“I don’t remember.”
He picked up the keys from the desk and dangled them. “Scott is on the keychain and on the license plate. You may as well tell me the truth, lady. You aren’t doing yourself any favors here.”
“So you’re arresting me because I borrowed a car without asking someone’s last name. Or is it because I didn’t have the registration? Why did you stop me anyway?” Kasey became more agitated.
“I stopped you because I know the owner of this car.”
“Great. Call him, then.”
“I tried. He didn’t answer. But I know he wouldn’t let anyone borrow it. He loves that car.”
“Well, he did. I told you he offered to wait with my broken-down Porsche. He was going to take it to the garage for me. He let me use his car to go to my meeting.”
“Until I can reach him to clear you, I’m not letting you go.”