Judging Joshua. Mary Wilson Anne

knew well enough that not being available could mean anything from being in the restroom to being dead. “I need to speak with him. It’s important.”

      Riley was sitting forward now, her elbows on the desk, and he didn’t miss the way she crossed her fingers, much the way an earnest child would. “Is he there?” she asked in a tense whisper.

      He shook his head as the woman on the other end of the line said, “I’m sorry, sir, he’s out of the office.”

      “Where is he?” he asked.

      “May I ask who’s calling?”

      “Deputy Joshua Pierce from the Silver Creek Police Department in Silver Creek, Nevada. I need to speak to Mr. Nyland about an important matter.”

      “Well, I’m so sorry, that’s not possible. He’s on vacation and out of touch.”

      “Where?”

      She hesitated, then said, “Florida.”

      Joshua exhaled. “Okay, maybe you can help me.”

      “Any way I can,” she said quickly.

      “I need to have some verification about an arrangement he made for a car delivery.”

      “A car delivery?” she asked.

      “To San Diego. A new BMW sedan.” He watched Riley as he explained the situation. “I need his verification that Miss Shaw is supposed to have it in her possession, and an explanation about the car being reported stolen.”

      “Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Mr. Nyland is an investment attorney, and he certainly wouldn’t be involved in car transfers.”

      “Do you know the name Riley Shaw?”

      “No, sir. I don’t.”

      “When will Mr. Nyland be back?”

      “I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry. He just said next week sometime.”

      Before Joshua hung up, he asked, “Does he have clients named Mindy Sullivan or Barton Wise?”

      “Sir, I can’t tell you about his clients. That’s privileged information.”

      “All I need is a yes or no, nothing else. If I have to, I’ll get the Chicago police up to your office with the proper legal papers. If you’ll just tell me yes or no, we’ll drop it.”

      “Well, just a minute,” she said, and the music came back on the line.

      Riley was nibbling nervously on her bottom lip and he had the idea while the secretary was searching her database, that Riley Shaw was either a great liar or a true innocent. As a cop, he prided himself on being able to read people, but this woman was hard to peg.

      “Deputy?” the receptionist asked, interrupting Joshua’s thoughts.

      “Yes, I’m here.”

      “All I can say is, I have never personally heard of Mindy Sullivan or Barton Wise.”

      “I appreciate that,” he said, then gave her his number. “If Mr. Nyland calls in for anything, could you ask him to contact me immediately?”

      “Yes, sir, of course,” she said.

      He thanked her and hung up, all the while watching Riley sink back in her chair. “Nothing,” he said, and she glared at him as if he’d failed in the most miserable way possible. He explained, “He’s on vacation in Florida and out of touch, and his receptionist doesn’t remember Sullivan or Wise.”

      Riley felt as if she had fallen into some black hole. “I swear, he’s the one who gave me the money and the directions and said to take the car to San Diego.”

      “Where in San Diego?”

      “I’m supposed to call Mindy Sullivan when I get to the city, and she’ll tell me where to deliver it.” Her stomach was hurting again and she wrapped her arms around it. “I can’t believe this,” she breathed, rocking front to back slowly.

      He looked worried again and she knew she must look horrible. “Miss Shaw—”

      “Riley. My name’s Riley.”

      Before she could tell him to call Mindy Sullivan, a buzzer sounded and Joshua was up and heading out of his office. “Hey, Gordie,” he said. “We’re in here.”

      Riley stared at the worn wooden top of the desk until she heard another voice right behind her. “Okay, so what’s going on?” a man’s deep voice asked.

      She twisted around to see a tall man bundled up in a suede jacket with a heavy fur collar, a matching fur hat pulled low on his head. He was gripping a stereotypical black bag in one hand; with the other, he skimmed off his fur hat. He was pleasant-looking, maybe in his late thirties, with irregular features and an aura of kindness. Riley hardly ever thought that about anyone she met.

      “Gordie, the prisoner fainted,” Joshua said, coming to the other side of Riley’s chair.

      The doctor had sharp blue eyes and an easy smile as he studied her. “I’m Dr. Gordon.” He flicked a glance at Joshua. “Although some persist in calling me Gordie.” He crouched so that he and Riley were eye-to-eye. “So tell me what happened.”

      “I don’t know. I just fainted. I’ve never fainted before,” she said. “I’ve never even come close.”

      “No. I mean, why did they arrest you?”

      She blinked at him, wondering if he was joking. But he seemed serious as he took some things out of his bag and started examining her while she answered. “They say I stole a car.”

      He reached for her wrist, pressed his fingertips to her pulse and studied a watch on his other wrist. “So you’re a car thief, huh?”

      “No, I’m not.”

      He chuckled and glanced at Joshua. “They’re all innocent, aren’t they?”

      She looked up at her arresting officer, who was watching the two of them. She could take the doctor joking, but she couldn’t take the smile on Joshua’s face. “This isn’t a joke,” she muttered.

      Joshua sobered, but it was the doctor who spoke up. “Well, if you take life too seriously, you’re doomed.”

      She stared at him. “I just want to know why I fainted.”

      As he got out a stethoscope, he explained, “I don’t have a clue yet. Headache?”

      “No.”

      “Nauseous?”

      “A bit.”

      “You’re not diabetic?”

      “No.”

      “Pregnant?”

      She could feel the fire in her cheeks. “No.”

      He pressed the cool stethoscope to her chest where her shirt was open. “Drugs?”

      “No,” she muttered tightly. “Never.”

      “Okay, when’s the last time you ate?” he asked, frowning as he listened to her heart.

      “A few hours ago, maybe three or four.”

      “What did you eat?”

      She shrugged. “I don’t remember. Oh, a corn dog, some nachos, a soda and some candy bars.”

      “You’re lucky to be breathing after eating that,” he murmured as he put the stethoscope back in his bag.

      “It was either that or sausage on a stick and jelly beans.”

      He smiled. “The lesser of two evils?” He took out a blood pressure cuff, tugged up her sleeve, then fastened the cuff on her upper arm.

      “Definitely,”