Chapter Thirty-Eight
Maggie reacted as any woman would, watching her husband handcuffed and led away, barefoot in blue jeans, in the dead of night, told nothing that made any sense.
Richard had been stuffed into the backseat of a police cruiser and had yelled, “Call Sam! Diane, too. Tell them to get me a lawyer. Don’t talk to these guys, Maggie, just―”
The deputy slammed the back door so she couldn’t make out what else he said.
She raced barefoot after one of the officers, stumbling blindly over the hard ground. “Where are you taking my husband?” She tried to reach out and touch the officer’s arm as he hurried behind the others.
“To the Sequim Detachment. Please step back, ma’am.” He held out his arm to brush her back as if she were a common criminal—a woman of no importance.
Maggie
