Free One Night by Debbie Macomber Page A

before, and if Richards knew what was good for him, he’d tread lightly.
    First thing that morning, Carrie had gone over to the mechanic’s and picked up the BMW. She’d guessed correctly that Kyle would be eager to be on his way.
    The minute Kyle tucked Richards’s card in his wallet, he strode purposefully toward the door. Carrie noted that he made no promises one way or the other to contact the Secret Service. Nor did he wait for her. Instead he left her to traipse obediently after him.
    She scurried toward the door, then paused and turned defiantly back to the sheriff and the government agent.
    “I think you should know I intend to write my United States congressman over the way we’ve been treated.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Richards murmured, but he didn’t reveal the least bit of concern over her threat.
    “I will, you know.” She waved her index finger at them as positive proof. “Mark my words, this is no idle threat.”
    Kyle was in his BMW and had started the engine by the time she slipped into the seat next to him.
    “You want to head back to the interstate?” she asked, clicking her seat belt into place, certain he cursed the day he’d followed her recommendation to travel off the main road.
    “No,” he answered shortly, not bothering to explain his reasons. In one word he made it clear he wasn’t in the mood to talk.
    So this was the way it was to be. Carrie realized that Kyle intended to give her the silent treatment. That was dandy with her. She’d spent a miserablenight sleeping in Mrs. Johnson’s cotton robe. The woman had insisted on washing Carrie’s clothes so she had something clean to wear in the morning. She would have picked up a few things for herself if she hadn’t been so involved in getting Kyle out of the slammer. Now it would have to wait.
    They traveled for half an hour without a word passing between them, but it wasn’t a companionable silence. Carrie wanted to talk, but it was plain Kyle didn’t.
    Sometime later, he finally spoke. “The delay in Wheatland shouldn’t cause much of a problem. We can stay overnight in Paris and still be in Dallas early tomorrow.”
    “Perfect,” she said agreeably. She wasn’t planning to meet Tom Atkins until the evening cocktail party, and that was her only concern. How she would miss the beautiful red-sequined dress! But she’d have time to visit her sister, who lived near Dallas, and Cathie could lend her something.
    “Perfect,” he repeated after her. She noticed how he purposely relaxed his fingers. Until then he’d gripped the steering wheel as though he were driving the Indy Five Hundred.
    “How was your night?” she asked, making polite conversation.
    “Miserable. Do you mind if we don’t talk about it?”
    “All right.”
    “How about you?” he asked.
    Carrie opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word, Kyle’s radar detector started beeping loudly.
    Kyle immediately removed his foot from the gas pedal to decrease their speed, but it was too late. The blinking red-and-blue light of a state patrol car was flashing in the rearview mirror.
    Kyle mumbled something unrepeatable under his breath, pulled over to the side of the road, and stopped the car. “I wonder if I can manage to stay out of jail this time,” he muttered.
    Carrie squeezed his arm reassuringly. Kyle was as stiff as a three-day-old corpse.
    The patrolman climbed out of his car and stepped up to the BMW. With a casual air, Kyle rolled down his window.
    “Hello, officer.” His tone was cheerful, albeit strained.
    “Hello. May I see your driver’s license and the car registration, please.” The officer was brisk and businesslike.
    “Was I speeding?” Kyle asked. Carrie knew full well that he had been.
    The officer was intent on reading over Kyle’s license and didn’t respond to his question. “I see you folks are from Kansas City.”
    “That’s right.”
    Again Carrie left the talking to Kyle. The less she opened her mouth, the