Free Ladies' Circle of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 8) by Vanessa Gray Bartal Page B

probably pull out his Taser and zap her. There was no need to add loss of bladder control to the situation.
    Gingerly, she eased from the car and followed him inside. Maybe if she kept her head down, no one would recognize her.
    “Lacy!” Travis’s voice seemed to come from everywhere. He was the one manning the doors and operating the radio. He must have pressed the speaker button by accident when he saw her because her name echoed around the jail and through each deputy’s collar radio. She winced as a few men in the holding cell woke up and started to make catcalls.
    Travis intercepted them on the long march through the jail. “Lacy, are you okay?”
    She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
    “What happened?”
    She shrugged.
    He shoved an orange ball of something into her hands. They unfurled as she looked down. Prisoner pants. Was that better than no pants? She wasn’t sure, but she stepped into them, holding Travis’s arm to keep her balance.
    “It was the only size I could find,” he explained.
    They were acres too big. Either she could maintain a constant hand on her waist to keep the pants from falling, or she could hike them up over her chest. She chose the latter, not caring at this point how ridiculous she looked. At least she was covered now.
    “I have no more words,” Travis said.
    Neither did she. She wanted nothing more than to go home, bury herself under the covers, and forget this night had ever happened. But that wasn’t to be, and she knew exactly where the deputy was taking her.
    He led her to an interview room, showed her inside, and left her alone, the door firmly closed behind him. Lacy didn’t have to wait very long. Detective Arroyo was so excited she was surprised he didn’t show up still in his pajamas.
    “Well, Lacy,” he said, his tone affable.
    “Detective,” she said, nodding coolly. Let him think she wasn’t affected by this. He needn’t know this was one of the worst nights of her life. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
    “Nice pants,” he said.
    “Thank you,” she said.
    “Although I’ve never thought redheads could pull off orange. Too much clashing.”
    “I didn’t realize you were a fashion maven. Should I run all my outfits by you?” she asked.
    He didn’t like that. His happy smile slipped as he sat down. “Breaking and entering is a serious offense, as I’m sure you know.”
    “Good thing that wasn’t what I was doing,” she said.
    He quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? What were you doing? Because, I have to say, it doesn’t look good. Scaling the fence of a private business after hours, a business that you were warned to stay away from, that’s big. Might be a felony. And I don’t think your so-called press credentials will work as a get-out-of-jail-free card.”
    “I was simply retrieving personal property,” she said.
    “Hoskins was working on your car?” he asked.
    “No, my mother’s car.”
    “Then that’s hardly your personal property.”
    “I was trying to help her out. I didn’t want the car to become bogged down in the investigation. It’s a stressful time for our family. My mother is here from Florida because my sister is due to deliver her baby any day.”
    “And that’s your excuse for breaking into a car lot?”
    “You’ve obviously never met my mother,” she said.
    “What’s that supposed to mean,” he said.
    “It means that she’s been putting a lot of pressure on me since her arrival. She wanted her car, so I was trying to get her car. It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”
    “And all this had nothing to do with your investigation into Bob Hoskins death,” he said.
    “How would it? How could my mother’s car possibly connect to a dead man, even a man who was most likely murdered?” she said.
    He smacked his palm on the table. “He wasn’t murdered. Stop saying that. You’re going to start rumors.”
    “Have you looked into the possibility? Have you even considered that his death might not