Free 03_Cornered Coyote by Dianne Harman Page B

landing in Los Angeles, being arrested and taken to the Riverside County Jail, and being treated like a common criminal. Her mug shot had been taken. She'd been fingerprinted and run through the criminal computer database to see if she had an arrest record. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the finishing touch was the phone call she'd made to her mother from jail.
    Mom, I have some bad news. I've been arrested for Jeffrey's murder and I’m in jail. Fortunately, a friend of mine was able to post bail, so I’ll be able to get out of jail tonight. I'm going to be arraigned day after tomorrow and they tell me the judge almost never grants bail in murder cases, so I'll probably be in jail until my trial.
    Please don't cry. I'm innocent and I'm sure I won't go to prison. I just have to get through the next couple of months. Give my love to Dad. I'll call you tomorrow morning. You want me to come early in the morning? Do you really think you and Dad can be late for work? I don’t want you to lose money on my account. All right. I won’t bother to call you. I’ll be there at 7:00 a.m.
    Yes, I know it’s the Christmas season and I wish they would have waited until after Christmas, but they didn’t. Say a novena at Mass in the morning for me. God knows I need all the help I can get, and a little extra prayer for my well-being can’t hurt. I’ve got to get off the phone. The jailer’s waving at me, telling me my time is up. I love you. Goodbye.
    Maria looked at the bedside clock, surprised to see it was already 5:30 in the morning. Even though she'd slept soundly in the large king-size bed, she was still exhausted, physically and emotionally. She removed Jordan’s hand and quietly slid out from underneath the sheet and blanket. She took a deep purple silk robe out of her suitcase and tied the sash as she walked to the kitchen, desperate for coffee. She found the coffee and filters, figured out how to work Jordan’s expensive machine, and the aroma of coffee soon filled the kitchen. Minutes later Jordan walked into the kitchen, a white towel secured at his waist.
    "I'm surprised either one of us slept, given everything that happened yesterday," he said, nuzzling her neck as he wrapped his arms around her. "I'd like to take you back to bed for a repeat performance, but I’ve got an urgent message from Captain Randolph. Any chance you can make some breakfast for us while I shave and get dressed?"
    "Sure. I'll find something, but I do need to call that lawyer. We can resume where we left off last night when you get home this evening. Might as well make the most of our time together, because I think it's going to be awhile before we can do any of this again. When we got here last night, I noticed another car in the garage. Can I drive it to go see my parents?"
    "Of course. I've had it forever. That old Ford isn't much to look at, but sometimes I don't want to drive the Lexus. It’s got an automatic shift. You'll be fine. I’ve got to get dressed. Be back shortly."
    She picked up the large tote she’d carried on the plane and found the phone number for the attorney, Brian Meeks. She left word on his voicemail that she was free after nine that morning, but would prefer it he could come to the house in the early afternoon, about one. She gave him Jordan’s address and asked him to call her back and confirm the appointment. Meeting with her attorney the day before she went to jail was not the way she’d planned to celebrate the days leading up to her first Christmas with Jordan.
    A few minutes later he walked back into the kitchen, kissed her again, and watched while she broke eggs into a bowl and whisked them. "Jordan, did I tell you about the dinner they gave me last night in the jail? Now I’m kind of sorry I lost that weight I’d gained in Provence. I might starve to death in jail."
    "No, I've always heard how bad the food is, but in my line of detective work, I don't spend much time in jails. I'm never the arresting