The other man set down the fan, then slowly stood up. He was dressed the same as the man behind her, but was taller, leaner. He had a narrow face that needed shaving, and was sweating just like the fat man, just like her.

He walked up in front of her, his eyes moving up and down her body appreciatively. She wanted to complain, to tell him what the other man had done, but this man did not fill her with any assurance that she would be treated right. She kept her mouth shut.

"What's your name, girl!" the sheriff demanded.

"Meghan Sheffield," she gulped.

"You been a bad girl, ain't you, Meghan!" he grinned.

"I… I guess," she whispered.

"I guess," he echoed. "How you plannin' on payin' yer fine!"

"I… my sister drove to see my parents. They'll bring money."

"She says they's movin' to Grandon, and her parents are there."

"Uh, huh," the sheriff said. "You kin go back out on patrol again, Frank."

"But, Sheriff…"

"I said git!" the sheriff snapped.

The fat man hurriedly retreated, and Meghan was left alone with the sheriff. He gazed at her through sullen eyes, then took a dirty handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped sweat off his forehead, then the rest of his face. He stuffed it back in his pocket then reached out and abruptly gripped her arm and spun her around.

He gripped her wrists, then removed the hand cuffs and spun her around again. "In there," he said, jerking his head towards a door at the other end of the room.

Meghan shuffled across to the door, the sheriff behind her. He reached out and opened it, then shoved her through. She found herself in a small hallway with cages on either side. There was a room just off to the right, though, and it was in here the sheriff pushed her.

The room was small, with a desk and table. There was a sink in at one end, and also a small square booth not much bigger than a phone booth that was a stand up shower stall.