ONE

I STIFFENED AT THE RED AND BLUE LIGHTS flashing behind me, because there was no way I could explain what was in the back of my truck. I pulled over, holding my breath as the sheriff came to my window.

"Hi. Something wrong?" My tone was all innocence while I prayed there was nothing unusual about my eyes. Control yourself. You know what happens when you get upset.

"Yeah, you've got a busted taillight. License and registration, please."

Crap. That must have happened when I was loading up the truck bed. Speed had been of the essence then, not daintiness.

I handed him my real license, not the fake one. He shone his flashlight back and forth between the identification and my face.

"Catherine Crawfield. You're Justina Crawfield's girl, aren't you? From the Crawfield Cherry Orchard?"

"Yes, sir." Politely and blandly, as if I didn't have a care in the world.

"Well, Catherine, it's nearly four a.m. Why are you out this late?"

I could tell him the truth about my activities, except I didn't want to sign on for hard time. Or an extended stay in a padded cell.

"I couldn't sleep, so I decided I'd drive around."

To my dismay, he ambled to the bed of the truck and shone his light in it.

"Whatcha got back there?"

Oh, nothing unusual. A dead body under some bags and an ax.

"Bags of cherries from my grandparents' orchard." If my heartbeat were any louder, it would deafen him.

"Really?" With his flashlight he poked at a plastic lump. "One of 'em is leaking."

"Don't worry." My voice was almost a squeak. "They always leak. That's why I carry them in this old truck. They've stained the bottom of it red."

Relief crashed through me when he ceased his explorations and returned to my window.

"And you're driving around this late because you couldn't sleep?" There was a knowing curl to his mouth. His gaze took in my tight top and disheveled hair. "You think I'm going to believe that?"

The innuendo was blatant and I almost lost my cool. He thought I'd been out sleeping around. An unspoken accusation hung between us, nearly twenty-three years in the making. Just like your mother, aren't you? It wasn't easy being illegitimate in a town so small, people still held that against you. In today's society, you wouldn't think it mattered, but Licking Falls, Ohio, had its own set of standards. They were archaic at best.

With great effort I restrained my anger. My humanity tended to shed like a disposable skin when I got angry.

"Could we just keep this between us, Sheriff?" Back to the guileless blinking of my eyes. It had worked on the dead guy, anyway. "Promise I won't do it again."

He fingered his belt as he considered me. His large belly strained against the fabric of his shirt, but I refrained from comments about his girth or the fact that he smelled like beer. Finally he smiled, exposing a crooked front tooth.

"Go home, Catherine Crawfield, and get that taillight fixed."

"Yes, sir!"

Giddy with my reprieve, I revved up the truck and drove off. That had been close. I'd have to be more careful next time.

Copyright © 2007 by Jeaniene Frost.