Judging Joshua. Mary Wilson Anne

time. He had her by the arm, leading her out of the office and to the women’s restroom. Riley pulled free of him and hurried ahead, but instead of going into a stall, she went to the nearest sink and grabbed the sides of the white enamel, her head forward, swallowing hard.

      “If you’re going to be sick, use—”

      “I’m okay,” she whispered. She splashed cold water on her face, dampening the loose tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail and dripping down on to her shirt, darkening the cotton. She took several deep breaths, then reached for paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and pressed them to her face.

      If it hadn’t been bad enough to have had a woman faint dead away in his arms, now the same woman was close to being sick. He could see each breath she took, the way she shuddered on a final sigh as she pulled the towels down and crushed them into a ball in her hand.

      “Are you okay?” he asked, feeling ridiculous standing there.

      “I’m sorry,” she mumbled as she dropped the towels in the wastebasket, then held her hands under the cold water, just letting it wash over her skin.

      He saw her reflection in the distorted mirror over the sink. Bright color dotted both cheeks and dark smudges shadowed her eyes. She finally turned off the water, dried her hands on more towels, tossed those towels away and turned to him. He didn’t miss how she still held to the sink with her right hand.

      “Do you need me to call Gordie?” he asked.

      “No, he can’t help me.” She turned back to her reflection in the mirror and brushed at her hair. He didn’t miss the unsteadiness in her hand. Damn it, he didn’t want to feel protective, but he did. She met his gaze in the mottled mirror. “Do you usually escort female prisoners into the bathroom?”

      That errant feeling of protectiveness fled, replaced by annoyance. “The only reason I brought you in here was that the cells were farther away and I thought—” He cut off his own words, impatient with himself for feeling the need to explain his actions to her. “Next time, I’ll take you to your cell. There’s a toilet and sink there.”

      The color in her cheeks deepened. “Oh, joy. All the comforts of home,” she muttered.

      It was a good thing he was only doing this job as a fill-in for his dad. He’d been a cop most of his adult life, but didn’t want to be doing it now, and especially not with her. “You know, it might be better if you just told me what’s going on, and maybe we can work something out.”

      “Are you offering me a deal?” she asked, continuing to grip the edge of the sink. She turned to him.

      “The acting sheriff would have to do that. But, if you tell me the truth, maybe I can talk to the higher-ups and work something out for you.”

      “I bare my soul and you give me a break?” She regarded him without blinking. “Your acting sheriff will cut me a deal?”

      “If you tell me everything, we can go from there.”

      She exhaled harshly, with obvious exasperation. “I’ve told you everything, so where do we go from here?”

      He shrugged. “I hold you until Chicago gets back to me on what they want done.”

      “When will they get back to you?”

      “No idea.”

      “Meanwhile, you just hold me here? What about booking me and my arraignment? Isn’t it a fact you have seventy-two hours to arraign me after booking? There isn’t an open-ended time limit, is there?”

      Damn it, she wasn’t a novice at this. She knew her stuff.

      “If I book you now, yeah, it’s seventy-two hours.”

      “What do you mean, if you book me now?”

      “I can book you, get it going, then it’s on the record. And we’ll have to arraign you on the evidence we have now.”

      “Do I hear an ‘or’ in that statement?”

      He wasn’t at all sure he could make this work, but he threw out a tentative deal that he knew would be a hard sell to Charlie. His dad would have gone for it, hands down, but Charlie was tougher, a more letter-of-the-law type cop. But he was also reasonable. “If I can talk the acting sheriff into it, maybe we can hold off on the booking, just detain you for a day or so, and if it comes up that you’re telling the truth, then this never happened. If we book you, and in two days we find out you’re telling the truth, then we’ve got a bit of a mess on our hands. It’ll show you were picked up and booked and—”

      “A day or two?” she asked.

      “Chicago should have something by tomorrow, the next day at the latest. Then we can do what’s necessary.”

      She was silent for a long moment, staring at the floor, then she met his gaze. “None of this will go on my record if what I’ve told you is the truth?”

      He dug himself further into the offer. “None of it.”

      “And the acting sheriff will agree?”

      He shrugged. “I’ll talk to him, lay it out for him, but it will have to be his decision.”

      “But you think he’ll agree?”

      “There’s a good chance he will.”

      She stood straighter. “Okay, I’ll wait. I’ll let you detain me until Chicago straightens this out.”

      Joshua didn’t know if he was relieved or being a real fool. He just hoped Charlie would go for the delayed booking. “Okay, let’s get you settled.”

      “Can I wait in your office until you find out if he’ll wait on the booking?” she asked.

      “First of all, it’s not my office, I’m just using it for now, and second, I don’t know when I can run it past Charlie, and since you’re being detained, that means you’re being held, and that means, you’re being held in a cell.”

      He saw that urge in her to argue, to fight him, but she finally said, “Let’s get this over with,” and went around him to the door. Once again he was the one following as she walked out into the squad room. From behind, he noticed her slender hips in the faded denim, the movement of her body as she walked determinedly toward the lockdown security door as if going there had been her decision all along.

      He heard someone talking near the front entrance, but didn’t take his eyes off Riley. They went into the cell area and she stopped abruptly. Quick sidestepping kept him from running into her back. “Which cell?” she asked.

      He motioned to the one he’d carried her into earlier. The door was still open. “That one’s fine.” He could see her hesitate, then take a deep breath, as if preparing to plunge into deep water, then she went inside. She turned just inside the door and he didn’t go in after her.

      He looked at her, framed by the metal frame and the bars on either side. He’d seen enough prisoners walk into a cell, and he thought he was immune to any response beyond the required caution with any alleged criminal. But as he looked at Riley Shaw, he realized the picture didn’t add up. Something was amiss, but he wasn’t about to stand here and figure it out. He’d let Charlie deal with her. “How about some food?”

      She looked from side to side, then went to the cot on the back wall, sat on the edge and looked out at him. “What kind of meal do you have for the condemned?”

      Her sarcasm wasn’t disguised, but he chose not to respond in kind. Instead he reached for the cell door, slid it shut with a clang of metal against metal and saw her flinch. “How about sandwich and soup?”

      She pressed her hands to her knees and shrugged. “Whatever.”

      She’d get whatever he could manage. He turned to lock the door at the security panel on the opposite wall, but stopped when she spoke again. “Can you leave the door open?”

      He