He spun her around and handcuffed her wrists together, then led her by the arm out of the room. They headed down the hall, not towards the front but towards the back, and then opened a door that led outside.

There was a police car waiting there and he pushed her into the back seat, then got into the front and pulled away from the station.

"Where are we going!" she asked.

"You say, Sir when you talk to me."

"Whe… where are we going, Sir!" she gulped.

"We're going to the County Jail."

"But… but why!"

"That's where we keep drug dealers and smugglers and whores and other lowlifes."

"But I… I didn't do anything."

"Oh no. Want to bet. Your record says you were caught selling cocaine to minors."

"What! What record!" she asked in confusion.

"Your criminal record. Not only that but you were convicted of arson, prostitution and child abuse."

"But… but that's crazy. I didn't do any of that!"

"Sure, sure. That's what they all say," he sighed.

"But I didn't! You can ask my parents!"

"Now, now no point denying it any more. You've already been sentenced. You'll have the next twenty years to try and make it up to society."

"But… but… sentenced! I… I didn't do anything!"

"Don't worry, County Jail can be a nice place as long as you're a good girl and do as you're told."

"But I didn't do anything!" she wailed.

"I told you to say Sir," he snapped.

"I didn't!" she sobbed.

"That's what they all say," he grinned.

Half an hour later they were at the county farm. Amy could see little of it, just a big blur, but tall fences surrounded the acres of fields. Men worked almost naked in the fields, guarded by a few men with shotguns. They drove through the main gate and up to a long, low concrete building that had bars on the windows.

He stopped and got out, then came back and pulled her out of the rear.