LITMIR.BIZ

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cordless phone from the cluttered desk. Before he could leave the room and let Sarah make her call, his cell phone came to life, bursting out in a ring tone that sounded like a foghorn, which his friend Jamie continued to tease him about. But, hey, it got his attention.

      His jaw tightened as he glanced at the caller ID. Mayor Williams again. That man was like a damned dog with a bone, gnawing at him, refusing to let go until Finn arrested someone for Teresa’s murder.

      “I can’t really talk now, Mayor,” Finn said, his teeth aching from the forced polite tone. “I’ve got Connelly in custody and she requested a lawyer.”

      “Lawyered up, huh?” The law enforcement slang sounded absurd coming out of the mayor’s mouth. “That’s a sign of guilt, isn’t it, Sheriff?”

      “No, just a sign of intelligence,” he couldn’t help but reply. “She’s concerned about her rights.”

      “Well, I’m concerned about who she might kill next. By the way, I’ve got Jonas Gregory here in my office. You’re on speakerphone.”

      Finn fought a rush of annoyance. “Mayor, I don’t think we should jump to conclusions. She—”

      “Did she admit to threatening the victim?” Williams boomed, ignoring Finn’s attempt at defusing the precarious situation.

      “Yes, but—”

      “Good. Then we’re all set.”

      A spark of wariness ignited in his gut. “All set for what, Mayor?”

      “Finnegan, it’s Jonas,” came a second male voice. “Look, I read over the reports you faxed, and I want to move forward with this. We’ve got trace evidence placing Connelly at the scene, she threatened the victim two months prior to her death, and she’s got a history of imbalanced and reckless behavior.”

      Finn swallowed. “What are you saying, sir?”

      “Arrest her. We’ve got a good enough case here, one I can take to a grand jury.”

      Good enough? Finn resisted the urge to hurl the phone into the wall and watch it shatter into a hundred pieces. Sarah’s life, her entire future, was in danger of being taken away for good enough?

      “Sir, with all due respect, I think this might be premature,” he said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “Let me and my staff do some more investigating, make some more inquiries—”

      “What more do you need?” Gregory interrupted. “Make the arrest, and then work on tying that murder weapon to Connelly. Right now, we have enough to indict.”

      Knowing when he was beaten, Finn’s shoulders sagged, but he still made a futile attempt at getting some leniency for Sarah. “Can I let her go after she’s charged? She’s a single mother, and she—”

      “We’re not doing that woman any favors.” This time it was the mayor, whose words contained a twinge of outrage that Finn would even consider such an idea. Williams spoke again, now sounding suspicious. “You’re not still involved with her, are you, Sheriff?”

      “Of course not, Mayor. Connelly and I ended our relationship more than four years ago.”

      He referred to her by her last name, hoping it would help distance himself. But it didn’t. Her beautiful face was still imprinted in his mind, the memory of her soft laughter still wrapped around his heart. Didn’t matter what he called her. She would always be Sarah. His Sarah.

      “We treat her like any other criminal, Finnegan,” Gregory agreed. “She stays in lockup until the bail hearing.”

      “And when will that be?”

      “Her lawyer can petition for an emergency hearing, but Judge Rollins is in Charleston, playing a golf tournament. I doubt he’ll fly back for something so trivial.”

      Trivial? Finn wanted shout. Taking a mother away from her child, keeping her locked up for the weekend, was trivial? Rage churned in his stomach. How was a damned golf tournament more important than a woman’s life?

      He suddenly cursed this small town, with its one D.A. and sole judge and closed-minded attitude.

      “Make the arrest and we’ll meet on Monday morning at the courthouse,” Gregory said, his tone brooking no argument. “We really need to figure out how she got hold of that gun.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      Finn was numb as he hung up the phone. He let it drop from his fingers, and it clattered onto the desk, knocking over a small tin of paper clips. Ignoring the mess, he simply stared into nothingness, a chill climbing up his spine.

      He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t arrest Sarah.

      This is your job.

      No, it isn’t, he wanted to snap, but the voice of reason was right. He was the sheriff of Serenade, North Carolina, the man elected by the townsfolk to serve and protect them.

      But who would protect Sarah?

      Feeling as though his legs were made of lead, he trudged back across the bull pen, ignoring the curious look Anna shot him. He made his way down the hall, pausing in front of the interrogation-room door.

      Sucking in a heavy breath, he opened the door and entered the room. “Sarah,” he began gruffly.

      She lifted her head in confusion. “Where’s the phone?”

      “I can’t let you make the call until after—” he exhaled in a rush “—until after you’ve been booked and processed.”

      She blinked, and then horror dawned on her achingly gorgeous face. “Finn….”

      “I’m sorry, Sarah, but you’re under arrest.”

       Chapter 2

      Under arrest. Sarah couldn’t wrap her head around it as she silently endured the humiliation of getting her fingerprints taken and posing for a mug shot. A mug shot.

      How was this happening?

      I’m not a killer! she wanted to scream as Anna Holt inked up the pads of the fingers on her left hand.

      It wasn’t Anna’s fault, the woman was just doing her job, but Sarah was having trouble remembering that as the deputy gently took the impression of her thumb.

      “It’s procedure,” Anna apologized, her dark eyes swimming with compassion. “But we do already have them on file, you know, from that Proactive Crime thing you did in high school.”

      And, boy, didn’t she regret that decision now. For her senior-year law course, she’d done an independent study on crime prevention, with the hypothesis that if citizens were required by law to submit fingerprints and DNA, crime in an area would reduce drastically. As part of the project, she’d organized a program called Proactive Crime, which involved getting all the seniors to submit prints and saliva swabs to the police. Which meant that her information was in the Serenade department database.

      And for some inconceivable reason, she’d been flagged when the Donovan evidence had been logged in.

      Sarah’s head continued to spin as she followed Deputy Holt down the narrow staircase leading to the basement of the station. She’d never been down here before, but she knew what she would find. They were going to put her in a cell.

      Because she’d been arrested. For a crime she hadn’t committed.

      Again, how was this happening?

      Sarah felt all the color drain from her face as she got her first glimpse of what a jail cell looked like. Seeing one in a movie didn’t count. This was real. And terrifying. Her pulse raced as she stared at the long row of small cells lining the lockup area. The steel bars seemed to glare at her in accusation. The clinking of keys sounded, and she turned to see Anna unlocking one of the doors.

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