THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

“What’s your name?”
    “Taylor,” he said with a northerner-come-south drawl that made it sound like there was an extra L in there somewhere. “Dan Taylor.”
    “Sheriff Dan Taylor?”
    The young man smiled. “Deputy Dan Taylor.”
    She flopped against the back of the seat. Deputy Dan. Well this just gets better and better. Sounds like a cartoon character. There was nothing she could do about this now. She might as well relax and resign herself to rescheduling her appointment with Preston. Hopefully it wouldn’t compromise her arrangement with his company. It was one of her favorite jobs. The new prototypes were fun to photograph. But she sure couldn’t tell Preston she’d been arrested on suspicion of grand theft auto.
    The cruiser stopped. Kasey looked out the window. Spratt’s Market in huge letters spanned the side of a concrete building. Market? Geez, was he going to parade her all over town?
    He had better not leave me out here while he goes grocery shopping.
    Deputy Dan got out of the car and opened her door.
    “You’re taking me to the market?” She couldn’t refrain from the smartass tone that came with the statement.
    He glared at her, less than amused. “Let’s go.”
    Frustrated, she puffed not-so-nice names for him under her breath and scooched to the edge of the seat. With her hands bound behind her, getting out proved to be harder than she’d imagined.
    The deputy helped her to her feet, then spun her around to face a brick building with the words POLICE DEPARTMENT emblazoned across the front.
    “I stand corrected,” she mumbled.
    “Walk.” He gave her a little push.
    She glared at him. “I’m walking.”
    I’ll have his badge, damn it.
    They made the short walk across the parking area and through the heavy wooden doors of the building. Once inside, Kasey stifled a laugh as she looked around. The place resembled the set of the old Andy Griffith Show . The desks and gun cabinets lined the right side of the space, and four barred jail cells—all of them empty—were situated on the left side. Did they have a town drunk who slept off a night or two here as if it were a modern-day Mayberry timeshare?
    He parked her in a scarred wooden chair next to a metal desk that had seen better days. She wiggled and shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable with her hands secured behind her. He opened a couple drawers, searching for something, and came up with a checklist.
    I’m probably his first arrest.
    Deputy Dan used his finger to keep his place as he read the list.
    “Name?”
    “Kassandra Phillips.”
    “Address?”
    “You’ve got my license. It’s all on there.”
    He shot her a look.
    “Fine.” She gave him the information and wished like heck she’d taken I-64 instead of Route 58 this morning.
    Deputy Dan leaned in toward the screen to review what he had entered, backspacing more than he typed. He struck the keys with a slow monotony that had her wanting to offer to type for him.
    “Look. Don’t I get a call or something?”
    “Not yet.”
    She tried to remain calm. “Can you take this thing off my wrists at least?”
    “No. It’s policy. Until I put you in the cell, you must remain restrained. It’s for my safety.”
    Pretty good damn policy, too, because she’d had about enough of this ridiculous situation and felt pretty sure she could kick his scrawny ass.
    He asked her again about the vehicle.
    “I already told you. His name is Scott.”
    “What’s his last name?”
    “I don’t remember.”
    He picked up the keys from the desk and dangled them. “Scott is on the keychain and on the license plate. You may as well tell me the truth, lady. You aren’t doing yourself any favors here.”
    “So you’re arresting me because I borrowed a car without asking someone’s last name. Or is it because I didn’t have the registration? Why did you stop me anyway?” Kasey became more agitated.
    “I stopped you because I know the owner of this car.”
    “Great. Call him, then.”
    “I tried. He didn’t answer. But I know he wouldn’t let anyone borrow it. He loves that car.”
    “Well, he did. I told you he offered to wait with my broken-down Porsche. He was going to take it to the garage for me. He let me use his car to go to my meeting.”
    “Until I can reach him to clear you, I’m not letting you go.”
    He walked her to the cell furthest from the front door and cut the zip-tie from her wrists before releasing her into the small space. The heavy