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Chapter Six

The woman’s cheeks burned bright red, a stark contrast to the rest of her face, which was much paler than he remembered from the other day. With her gaze downcast, she didn’t argue when he put her in the back of his SUV. Reckless driving was a misdemeanor in Wyoming. Technically, department procedure required him to put her in handcuffs, but after the crash, her hands were trembling so badly he took pity on her. He also didn't get the vibe that she would try to make a run for it, although without rear door handles on the inside and with a standard steel barrier between the front and back seats, it would be difficult.

After shutting the door, he strode toward the cow grazing on the other side of the road. He'd recognized the heifer immediately, having dealt with her breaking through the fence line before. Dennis and Mavis Parker—an older couple who owned the small farm abutting the eastern section of the road—had about a dozen cows, but Gertie was the only escape artist. How she’d never been hit by a car or truck while standing in the middle of the road was beyond him, since she seemed to get out at least twice a month.

As he approached, he spotted where she’d trampled the wire fencing like it was nothing more than string. He removed his hat and waved it at the stubborn animal. “C’mon, Gertie. The grass is greener on the other side of the fence. I don’t know why you insist on coming over here to sunbathe.”

With a loud moo, the cow stepped toward the opening.

“Go on, git!” He slapped the hat against his thigh, finally convincing her to move back into the pasture. With a flick of her tail, she moseyed toward the rest of the herd grazing farther out in the field.

After making sure Gertie wasn’t conning him and waiting for him to leave so she could escape again, Grady checked the Corvette’s interior. He gathered Amanda’s keys, purse, and cell phone, all of which she’d left behind in her dazed state, then walked around the car to inspect the exterior. The ditch wasn’t deep enough to cause problems for most vehicles, but the Corvette sat so low that the undercarriage might be damaged. A mechanic would need to put it on a lift to be sure. In addition to the flat tires, a few scrapes and dents along the passenger side would also need an auto body shop's attention.

Overall, it could’ve been a lot worse. If she’d been driving a pickup instead of a low-slung sports car, she probably could’ve driven straight out of the ditch without a scratch.

Back in his SUV, he settled behind the wheel, placed her personal items on the passenger seat, and eyed her in the rearview mirror for a moment.

Grabbing the mic hooked to the dashboard, he radioed headquarters, asked them to notify Dennis Parker about the hole in his fence, and requested a female deputy and a tow truck at his location. Even if he weren’t arresting Amanda, she couldn’t have driven the Corvette—not with two flat tires and the chassis stuck on the edge of the ditch.

It was a miracle she hadn’t rolled the car or hit the cow and been killed. Thank God she’d had good reflexes, and no one had been coming toward her in the opposite lane. It took everything in him not to yell at her, but that was clearly the last thing she needed right then. He was still pissed, though, and she’d been right—nothing she could say would change his mind about arresting her.

She had to learn this wasn’t an L.A. freeway with a sixty-five-mile-per-hour speed limit. It was a country road where wildlife, wayward cattle, slow-moving tractors, and the occasional hitchhiker were common. As angry as he was about her recklessness, he still felt for her. The fear he’d seen on her face when he drove past twisted something in his gut, but he didn’t give himself a moment to examine it too closely. Now wasn’t the time.

“You’re really arresting me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” He drew out the word, regret heavy in his tone. His anger was fading under the weight of his concern for her. “I have to. I hope you understand that. It’s not personal. The law is the law, and someone could’ve been seriously hurt. Including you.”

“I know. I’m not... I’m not arguing. It was dumb.” Her voice trembled, something he doubted happened often.

“Sure was. But we all make mistakes. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He met her watery gaze in the mirror, hoping she understood he meant it.

“Thanks, Sheriff. Honestly, I’m so pissed at myself right now. I doubt you’ll believe me, but I am a good driver. I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately.”

“Sorry to hear that. But that’ll pass. Better days are coming.”

God, when had he started sounding like Sheriff Andy Griffith? All he needed was Deputy Barney Fife to roll on up for good measure. And don’t forget Opie and Aunt Bea.

In the rearview mirror, he saw her grimace. “Are they? Are they really? Because I haven’t seen one of them in quite a while.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that without sounding flip, so he said nothing. A sullen silence fell over the SUV. Thankfully, Sergeant Beth Loach pulled up behind him soon enough, giving Grady an excuse to drag his gaze away from the remorseful woman in his back seat.

Only a few female deputies were assigned to patrol, and Grady’s undersheriff, who handled scheduling, tried to ensure at least one was on duty each shift for situations like this. Since Beth was the one dispatch sent despite being a supervisor, it meant no one else was available at the moment or working that day.

Stepping out of the vehicle, he walked back and met the sergeant as she exited her own patrol SUV.

“What happened? Did somebody mistake the ditch for a parking spot?” she asked with a smirk, tipping her hat. She always had a smart-ass comment for every situation, but she was damn good at her job.

“Gertie happened. The driver was speeding and…” He shook his head, not wanting to go through a play-by-play in the middle of the road. “Anyway, I’m charging her with reckless driving. I need you to search her and transport her to the station.”

“Sure thing. Off to the pokey we go.”

“Beth.” Grady pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we do this without the sarcasm, just once?”

“No can do, boss. This is how I roll. Besides, if I weren’t being a hard-ass, you’d think something was wrong with me.”

It was true, and usually he got a kick out of it. Surprisingly, her sarcasm tended to de-escalate tense situations rather than worsen them. On more than one occasion, Grady had seen a suspect burst out laughing and chill out over something Beth had blurted out. She also knew when to turn it off and take command of a scene.

He opened the back door and helped Amanda out.