It was worse than she’d feared. Josh had his arms handcuffed behind his back and was being pushed toward the cruiser. Even from a distance of ten feet she could feel the anger emanating from him. His eyes were wild and his jaw so tight his face had gone white.
“What’s going on here?” she demanded, outraged on his behalf and not afraid to let it show.
The officer barely glanced her way. “Do you know this man?”
“I most certainly do.” Her hands flew to her hips and she braced her feet, prepared to do battle. “Why is he handcuffed?”
The officer spoke without emotion. “He matches the description of a robbery suspect—age, height, clothes. Motorcycle. All adds up to probably cause.” The officer met her eyes, silently daring her to challenge him.
She didn’t doubt the patrolman would welcome an excuse to haul her away, too, but she refused to give him one. Josh needed her free.
The officer resumed shoving Josh toward the patrol car.
“What about his rights?” she cried, desperately trying to find an excuse to delay him.
“I read him his rights.”
“Gretchen.” Josh furiously whispered her name under his breath in warning.
“He has a right to an attorney.” She looked to the clerk for confirmation.
“He owes me eight bucks for gas,” the man said.
“I’ll pay for the stupid gas!” Her heart hammered as she paced in front of the police officer. Josh was now sitting in the patrol car, his eyes closed as if he was mentally removing himself from the ugly scene.
“Do you have a license to drive that bike?” the patrolman asked her.
She glanced over her shoulder at the Harley. Josh’s pride and joy. The symbol of his rebellion. “Yes, I’ve got a license,” she lied, knowing that if she didn’t, the police would impound the bike. Heaven only knew how long it would be before Josh got it back, and she couldn’t risk that.
“You’ll take care of it, then?”
Although she knew it was pointless to protest, she did anyway. “Look. Josh didn’t commit a robbery. He was with me all morning. We left Newport Beach at seven. You can call the motel and they’ll verify…” She trailed off, remembering that she was the one who’d registered for the room, not Josh. He hadn’t spent the night with her. She couldn’t account for his whereabouts every minute of the night. But in her heart, she knew he would never rob anyone.
“Leave it,” Josh said, his voice low and tight, sharp with frustration.
Gretchen clenched her hands into fists, finding it impossible to stand by and do nothing. She was the only one who appreciated how humiliating this was for him. How difficult. The pain in his eyes when he’d told her about his father being in prison haunted her. Now to face jail himself for something he couldn’t have done, wouldn’t have done…
“Please,” she whispered, feeling helpless and small. She wasn’t even sure who she was asking for help.
“We were in Newport Beach last night,” she said, so fast the words ran together. She was willing to say anything, do anything, that would convince the officer he had the wrong man.
A sly smile lit the patrolman’s face. “Yes, I know.”
She clamped her mouth shut, determined not to offer any more unsolicited information. She wanted to help, not hurt, Josh’s cause. Her chest tightened painfully, and she found it impossible to stand still.
The patrolman opened the driver’s door and climbed into the vehicle. She planted her palms against the passenger window. “Josh!” she cried, wanting somehow to reassure him.
He turned his head toward her. Afraid she was about to erupt into sobs, she covered her mouth with her hand. Josh’s eyes steadily held hers, and then he smiled. Through his anger, frustration and humiliation, he reached out to her. He was the one reassuring her.
Gretchen bit her lower lip so hard she tasted blood.
“Miss, miss.” The clerk took hold of her shoulders and pulled her away from the cruiser. She stood back helplessly as Josh was driven away, her gaze following the car until it was no longer in sight.
The clerk waited an impatient moment while she composed herself, then asked, “You going to pay for that gas or not?”
“Yes,” she murmured, and stepped back into the store.
When she was back outside, she crossed to the Harley, donned Josh’s leather jacket, dark glasses and helmet, and swung one leg over the seat, pretending she knew what she was doing. Not only did she not have a motorcycle license, she hadn’t so much as twisted the key in the ignition before. She felt like weeping.
Dragging in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and decided then and there that she would find a way not only to start the bike, but ride it. She had to do it for Josh.
He’d been there for her when she’d needed him, hadn’t he? He’d taught her so much about herself in the past couple of days. She’d felt helpless and lost when they’d started out together. But he’d believed in her, restored her faith in herself. She wasn’t going to let him down.
The bike felt enormous between her legs, a monster ready to overpower her. Her grip tightened on the handlebars. She refused to give in to anxiety. Refused to be intimidated.
It shouldn’t be that difficult, she realized, forcing herself to think positively. After all, she’d watched him start the thing any number of times.
She twisted the key.
The engine didn’t catch.
She tried a second and a third time with the same result.
Breathing hard, she closed her eyes and reminded herself of everything that was at stake. One more time, she decided, and this time, by heaven, the bike would start.
She turned the key. When the engine roared, the Harley vibrated with such force it nearly toppled her.
Releasing a shout of triumph, Gretchen thrust her arms into the air, feeling like an Olympic champion. She glanced over her shoulder to be sure the road was clear, then managed to head down the highway and into town.
Her speed increasing, it surprised her how easily she managed to drive the Harley. Anyone looking at her dressed as she was would assume she was a motorcycle mama. Let them! One thing was certain: she wasn’t about to let anyone or anything intimidate her again.
For another, her father and brother were going to hear about this. Two of San Francisco’s finest attorneys, they would make mincemeat of the charge against Josh. By the time the dust had settled, Josh Morrow would own this two-bit town.
Rejuvenated, fire in her blood, Gretchen parked the Harley in the county courthouse lot. Head high and shoulders squared, she was determined to make an entrance that rivaled John Wayne in his finest.
“I’d like to see Judge Joseph Logan,” she announced to the receptionist. She didn’t have a clue who Judge Logan was, but if he insisted on having his name listed in the front of the courthouse, then he should expect to take appointments.
“I’m sorry, but Judge Logan died fifty years ago,” the receptionist replied in a polished tone without cracking a smile. “We named the courthouse after him.”
“Oh. Then who else is there?” Gretchen demanded, although much of her bravado had evaporated.
The woman looked sympathetic. “No one, I’m afraid.”
“OK. I guess what I really need is a good attorney.”
The receptionist’s face brightened. “I can help you with that. Janet Mercer’s office is across the street. You tell her Maggie sent you, OK? Whatever the problem is, Janet can help you.”
Gretchen was so grateful she could have hugged the receptionist. “Thank you,” she said.
“No problem. Listen, I hope everything works out.”
Heeding the woman’s advice, Gretchen hurried across the street and found Janet Mercer’s name listed, along with three others, on the door outside a small brick office complex.
Apparently Janet didn’t have a large enough clientele to warrant a secretary. Her office was simply a single room, with a desk, computer and one guest chair. A woman who d
idn’t look much older than Gretchen herself glanced up when she entered the room.
“Hello,” she greeted cheerfully. “I’m Janet Mercer. Can I help you?”
“Yes.” Without waiting for an invitation, Gretchen lowered herself into the guest chair. She spoke nonstop for five minutes, hardly pausing long enough to breathe as she told Janet everything.
“They took him to the jail?” Janet asked.
“That’s right,” Gretchen said.
“Well, in that case, I better get over there.” Janet stood and reached for her purse.
The attorney led the way to the jail, asking a question now and then as they moved along the flower-lined sidewalk. Gretchen found the woman so warm and personable, she wondered if the receptionist had steered her wrong. What she needed was a legal warrior who would fight for Josh, not Mother Teresa!
Janet soon proved she was everything Josh needed. The mild-mannered attorney turned into a tigress the moment they entered the jailhouse. She announced herself as Josh Morrow’s attorney, and as for Officer O’Malley’s “probable cause,” she laughed in the man’s face.
Gretchen attempted to follow Janet into the interview room where Josh was being questioned, but she was barred. With nothing else to do, she sat with her hands tucked under her thighs in a small waiting area, while Janet did battle alone.
A couple of times Gretchen thought she heard raised voices, but she wasn’t able to make out the words or even figure out who was speaking. About ten minutes later the door opened and Josh walked out of the room, freed from the handcuffs and rubbing his wrists.
Gretchen leaped to her feet, restraining herself from rushing forward.
Josh stopped when he saw her. And grinned. It was the biggest, most beautiful smile she’d ever seen. She felt her own mouth relax into a matching smile, and the next thing she knew they were rushing toward each other.
She closed her eyes as he swept her into his arms. His hug was fierce. Speechless, they clung to each other as if they never intended to let go.
“Okay, you lovebirds,” someone said gruffly from behind Josh. “Move it outside, will ya? The last thing anyone wants to see around here is a little happiness. We don’t know how to handle it.” The officer chuckled.
Reluctantly, Josh released her. She lowered her feet to the floor and smiled up at him, battling back emotion.
“Where’s the Harley?” he asked, looping his arm around her shoulders.
“Right where I parked it,” she told him with more than a hint of pride.
“You rode it into town?”
“Yup. Ten miles over the speed limit, too. I was in a hurry.”
He stared down at her. “I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it.”
“All by yourself?”
“Yup.”
“Clearly I underestimated you.”
She grinned. “It would seem so.”
Janet appeared. “You’re free to go,” she announced.
“He is?” Gretchen couldn’t keep the delight out of her voice.
Janet nodded and strutted across the room like a peacock with its feathers on full display. She was obviously very pleased with herself. “This calls for a celebration,” she said. “I don’t suppose you two have had lunch yet, have you?”
Josh looked at Gretchen. “As a matter of fact, we haven’t had breakfast.”
“Great. Then you’ll be good and hungry. Lunch is on me.”
Josh started to protest, but Janet stopped him, chuckling softly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just add it to your bill.”
Gretchen wasn’t sure where they were headed, but they laughed and joked like old friends as Janet led them to an outdoor barbecue place two blocks away. The aroma of pungent sauce, alder smoke and sizzling meat made Gretchen’s empty stomach growl. She planted her hand over it, hoping to still the rumbling.
Josh glanced down at her and reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. “I’m sorry,” he said as they stood in front of the large printed menu posted on one side of the red building. Picnic tables in bright primary colors dotted the grassy area.
“For what?” she asked.
“Last night,” he answered, keeping his gaze trained on the menu.
“Oh.” Why he’d chosen now, of all times, to tell her, she would never know. Then again, maybe she did. Since he was apologizing within Janet’s hearing, she herself couldn’t very well question what had prompted his visit last night. Or why he’d lied. And she knew he had, because the way he’d held her when he’d been released from custody, the way he’d pressed her close to his heart, contradicted everything he’d said.
They all ordered the barbecued-pork sandwich, with baked beans and corn bread. “This isn’t the fanciest place in town,” Janet said, “but I have my reasons for choosing it.”
“What are they?” Gretchen asked.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
She was right. Halfway through their lunch, several patrol cars arrived.
“I’d say those reasons are here,” Josh said, then licked his fingers clean of barbecue sauce.
The attorney chuckled again. “Okay, so I like to gloat now and again. It serves old O’Malley right. He hauled Josh in just so he could look good for Chief Davidson. I know his tricks, and I consider it my duty to make sure everyone else knows them, too.”
“You enjoy living on the edge, do you?” Josh teased.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Gretchen noticed how Janet’s gaze zeroed in on one particular officer. She recognized the longing in the other woman’s expression; she’d felt the same thing herself in the past couple of days. Janet dragged her eyes back to her lunch with a resignation Gretchen could almost feel. The young attorney had been happy and animated moments earlier, but she grew suspiciously quiet now.
“Someone you know?” Gretchen asked, motioning with her head toward the tall athletic-looking officer.
“Yeah, I know him.” Janet pushed aside what was left of her lunch. “His name’s Gary Foreman. Unfortunately we don’t see eye to eye on a number of important issues and—”
“You like him, though, don’t you?” Gretchen asked.
“Does it show that much?”
“Yeah, it does.”
“Oh, dear.” Janet lowered her gaze. “We’re constantly at odds with each other. At one time…well, never mind, it isn’t important now. He’s very good at his job, and unfortunately, so am I.”
Gretchen stood, then reached for her empty paper plate and Janet’s almost full one. She walked over to the Dumpster and deposited them both there. On the return trip, she routed herself past the table where Gary sat alone, his back to Janet. She would say one thing for the attorney—she had excellent taste. Gary Foreman was exceptionally good-looking.
“Hello,” she said, boldly meeting his eyes.
“Hi.” He sounded hesitant, suspicious.
“Why don’t you come over and join us? My friend and I are having lunch with Janet Mercer. I think you know her, and since you’re eating alone…”
Gary frowned, his thick dark brows drawing together. “Who on earth are you?” he asked, instead of replying.
She had his attention, she noted. “Gretchen Wise. Janet’s wonderful. She just got my friend released after he was arrested. It was a case of mistaken identity.”
His frown deepened, and he stared at her as if he thought she might be crazy. Then he suddenly got up, picked up his lunch and gestured for her to lead the way.
“What were you two talking about?” Josh demanded as she and Gary reached the table.
“Nothing important,” she said, and winked at Janet, who was staring in shock at Gary.
As soon as he sat down, Gretchen turned to Josh and said, “I think it’s time we left.”
“I think so, too,” he quickly agreed.
They thanked Janet, ignoring her wide-eyed insistence that they stay, and Josh wrote down an address where she could send him a bill.
As they walked away, he started hammering Gretchen with questions. “What the hell prompted you to do that?” he demanded. “You don’t even know the guy.”
“Shh.” She walked across the street and pulled him behind a huge fir tree. “Tell me what’s happening back there.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Josh, I’m serious. Are they talking?”
“It looks that way.”
“Cool!” She’d never done anything as bold or as crazy in all her twenty-two years.
“Well, I’ll be,” he muttered.
“What? Tell me!” She didn’t dare look herself, because she didn’t want either of them to know she was watching.
“Janet just tossed my address in the garbage.”
So Janet appreciated her little conversation with Officer Foreman. “Good. Now let’s get out of here before someone else finds an excuse to arrest you.”
“My sentiments exactly,” he said. “Now, where did you say my bike was?”
“I parked it in front of the courthouse,” she told him.
“I can’t get over you driving the Harley,” he said, and linked his fingers with hers.
“I couldn’t very well leave it at the gas station, could I?” She reached into her jeans pocket and retrieved the key.
Josh walked across the street and stroked the motorcycle the way a man might touch the woman he loves and hasn’t seen in far too long. He stowed her purse for her, then eased himself onto the seat, inserted the key into the ignition and gave it a twist.
Nothing. Not even a cough.
He glared at Gretchen. “What on earth did you do?”
Chapter 5
Josh was furious. He seemed to be accusing her of some unspeakable crime against his beloved Harley. “This is a delicate machine.”
“What did I do?” she repeated with dead calm. “Let me see,” she said, playing dumb and striking a thoughtful pose. She tapped her index finger against her cheek as she mulled over what terrible abuse she might have inadvertently heaped on his most cherished possession.
“You must have done something!”
That did it. Her temper had never been explosive, but she’d had it. His accusation detonated her anger to such a degree that she could feel her pulse pound in her temples like a hammer against an anvil. Her hands knotted into tight balls at her sides.