“Both?”
“Yes.”
Vanessa swallowed.
“Okay.”
Mercer nodded toward her feet.
“Legs inside.”
She placed one foot in.
Then stopped.
“Is this really necessary?”
“Yes.”
“This is humiliating.”
Mercer looked at her.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
He did not argue.
That somehow made it worse.
Vanessa put her other leg inside.
Cole closed the door.
For a moment, the deputies stood beside the SUV.
Through the glass, Vanessa continued talking.
Mercer could not hear the words.
Cole looked toward the hotel.
“She’s going to talk until booking.”
“Probably.”
“You think she knows what actually happened?”
Mercer glanced back at Vanessa.
“Not yet.”
Inside the car, Vanessa pressed her forehead against the cool window.
Everything had happened too quickly.
That was what she told herself.
Too quickly.
One minute she had been at the pool.
The next she was handcuffed in a sheriff’s vehicle.
It did not feel connected.
There should have been more steps between those two realities.
There should have been a manager.
A supervisor.
A negotiation.
A refund.
A warning.
A person who recognized her.
Someone who said, Wait, Vanessa comes here all the time.
Someone who understood she was not that kind of person.
But no one had.
She stared at her reflection.
Her hair looked messy.
Her sunglasses were gone.
Her cheeks were red.
She looked like a stranger.
Then Vanessa noticed something.
The handcuff around her right wrist had a little more room than the left.
She twisted her hand.
Pain shot across her thumb.
She stopped.
Then tried again.
Vanessa had small hands.
She had slipped out of bracelets before.
For one irrational second, the possibility entered her mind.
If she got free, she could prove this whole thing was absurd.
She could open the door.
Tell them she was leaving.
Call an attorney.
Take control back.
The thought made no sense.
But control had become the only thing she wanted.
She twisted again.
The cuff moved.
Vanessa held her breath.