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“What?” Her screech echoed off the cinder-block walls and hurt Grady’s ears. “But—but you can’t... If the press finds out⁠—”

He held up a hand to cut off her rant. “As Sergeant Loach said, it’s standard procedure. We’re certainly not going to notify the press, but I can’t promise you no one will find out.”

After a few heartbeats, she sighed. “Well, if they do, it’s only for a bunch of ridiculous traffic tickets. It’s not like I was driving drunk or murdered someone.”

Beth unlocked the cell door and gestured for the other woman to exit. “Don’t they say bad publicity is good publicity, or something like that?”

Amanda glared at her. “Not when you’re trying to get your own national TV show. Producers tend to frown on their headliners being arrested and dragged through the tabloids.”

Behind their prisoner’s back, Beth rolled her eyes, and somehow Grady kept a straight face. He didn’t point out that everything happening today was her own doing. She knew that, so there was no need to rub it in her face any further.

“The prints and photo can wait until after,” he said.

Beth pulled out her handcuffs and secured Amanda’s wrists in front of her. Grady had already bent procedure enough for one morning, and while he didn’t expect her to give them any trouble beyond sarcasm and rebuttals, she was still under arrest.

He led them down the tunnel to the courthouse basement, then into an elevator that took them to the third floor.

They exited the car into another cell area with a door at either end, each leading into one of the main courtrooms. Judge Johns was presiding over town cases in the courtroom to the right.

Grady held open the door as Beth escorted Amanda in and showed her where to sit until her case was called. Once she was seated, the sergeant removed the handcuffs and stood behind her. Grady handed the clerk the paperwork he’d printed to add to the file she already had for Amanda’s traffic tickets.

Without looking up, Brenda Thatcher slipped the new pages into a blue folder and added it to the bottom of a stack of cases, which thankfully wasn’t that thick. About a dozen other people were in the courtroom, not including those paid to be there.

A half hour later, after the last of the people contesting traffic tickets had filed out, Brenda handed the final folder to the judge, who opened it. “Amanda Sparks.”

Grady caught her gaze and pointed toward the table where Cyrus Mills, the public defender, stood. She got to her feet and joined him. “That’s me, Your Honor.”

Brenda and the stenographer, Joanne, both looked up, their eyes widening as they recognized Amanda. Grady wondered if the two older women watched Compact Cribs too. The judge, however, showed no sign of realizing there was a public figure in his courtroom.

“Uh-huh. Says here you ran a stop sign the other day and were speeding—fifty-five in a thirty-mile-per-hour zone.”

“I—”

Johns didn’t even look up when he cut her off. “Don’t interrupt, Ms. Sparks. It also says that this morning you were charged with reckless driving after almost hitting a cow and putting your vehicle in a ditch. How do you plead?”

Instead of answering right away, she glanced at the public defender beside her, then turned back to the judge. “Your Honor, I have my own attorney in Los Angeles. Am I allowed to have her here for this?”

“Absolutely. That’s your right.” Judge Johns finally lifted his gaze from the folder. “If you want your attorney present, we’ll reschedule this hearing and give her time to get here. Since you were arrested on the reckless-driving charge, I’ll set bail, which you’ll have to post before you’re released. Otherwise, you’ll remain in custody until the new hearing.”

Her eyes widened. “Remain in custody? As in jail?”

“As in jail, Ms. Sparks.”

Grady bit the inside of his cheek to keep his expression neutral. Johns could also release her on her own recognizance without bail, but apparently he wasn’t in the mood to offer it.

The judge gestured toward the man standing beside her. “Or you can consult with the public defender, waive having your private attorney present today, and we can take care of this now. The choice is entirely yours.”

Amanda looked from the judge to the public defender, then over her shoulder at Grady. He raised his eyebrows but otherwise kept his expression blank. This was her decision, and he wasn’t about to influence it either way.

“How much would bail be?”

“Twenty-five hundred dollars.”

She blew out a breath and turned to the public defender. “I guess you’re my new best friend.”

Cyrus chuckled. “Why don’t we start with attorney and client and see how it goes?”

After a brief, whispered conversation, Amanda faced the judge again. “Fine. I’ll take care of it now.”