Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The jail cell in the back of the Parson’s Hollow sheriff’s department was small and quiet.
Water dripped from a faucet somewhere, and a past resident had scratched LILA SUKS DIK in the yellow paint covering the cinderblock wall above the bed.
He wrinkled his nose when the thought occurred to him that the mattress he currently sat on had probably been the same one where Cody had slept once or twice.
The heavy metal door that led to the detective bullpen opened and footsteps approached. The visitor wasn’t in his line of sight, and his pulse hammered in his ears as he stared out through the bars.
Oliver’s “Oh,” was little more than a whisper, but it carried well within the cinderblock walls, and he uncurled his fists.
“Just me.” Lucia gave him a gentle smile. “I’m sorry about this.”
“Thanks. I know it’s not your fault.” He cocked his head. “Is it?”
She snickered. “Not this time.”
Oliver was surprised he had the ability to grin. “Is this the same cell Cody’s been in?”
“It is, but we’ve changed out the mattress.”
“Well, there’s that anyway.”
She unlocked the cell and entered, leaving the door ajar behind her. A bit of tension eased out of him.
Lucia settled on the opposite end of the cot, forearms on her knees and hands hanging loose between them as she studied the floor. After a couple of seconds, she looked at him.
“Want to tell me what’s really going on in Glenmont?”
Oliver huffed. “Sure you want to know?”
“No. But it’s probably best.” She squinted. “Is it werewolves? Or vampires?”
“Nope. All new movie monster this time. A mummy.”
“Jesus Christ.” Lucia’s mouth twisted, and the lines around her eyes deepened. “You’re sure?”
“Pretty damn sure.”
“We’ve got some time before Carter gets here. Can you give me an overview?”
“Will it help?”
“It will help me protect the people you love.”
“Yeah, I appreciate that. But I don’t think the mummy is built for long journeys.”
“Give me the debrief anyway. I’ve been through enough of this kind of shit with Laurel and Hardy. I might be able to poke some holes in Carter’s case without tipping him off he’s got a monster on his hands.”
So, Oliver explained it all. He even told her about finding Samira’s notebook and the scrap of fabric, leaving out the detail that Demetrius had possession of them.
Lucia listened, stopping him every so often to ask a question.
He finished it all up with, “And then you brought me here.” After a breath, he asked, “Vera’s really dead? ”
“That’s what I understand. Did you know her well?”
He stared out beyond the bars. “No. She was kind but nervous. When the coffin was opened, and all that stuff sprayed out, it startled her so much she let go. That’s when I jumped in and took over.” He looked at her again. “Was she… Was it bad?”
“I don’t know the details. Carter just told me she’d been found in her apartment, and the door had been busted in.”
Oliver flinched. “Just like Lucien and Dominic. She must have been really terrified. How awful.”
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as tears threatened again.
“You’ve been through a lot just before your wedding.”
That proved a good distraction. He let out a muffled groan and leaned back, thumping his head against the cinderblock wall. “Don’t remind me. I get married in a week. What the hell was I thinking taking classes right now?”
“You were just trying to have a life,” Lucia said, her tone softer than Oliver had ever heard it.
“I bet you say that to all the guys you hold for questioning over the theft of a 3,000 year-old mummy and a few possibly related murders.”
“In this town, it’s not beyond the realm of possibility.
” They both chuckled, then Lucia turned serious again.
“Make sure you and Dave get a good criminal lawyer. Phillip Davies over in Harriettville is good. Amanda Morgan in Thorndale is good, too. Whoever you find, they need to know all the details, even if they don’t believe you. ”
He’d never been arrested before. Now he was going to have a record, and have to come up with bail money. His hands trembled in his lap. “Think bail will be high?”
“First time offender, no real physical evidence placing you near either of the murder scenes.” She shrugged. “Shouldn’t be. But I don’t know what Carter’s got that made him call me and promise to bring you in and hold you. He sounded pretty sure of himself.”
His vision blurred, and he removed his glasses to press the heels of his hands to his eyes. How had all of this happened? He wiped his eyes, put his glasses back on, and asked, “You believe I had nothing to do with all of this, don’t you?”
“I do.” She stood and returned to the narrow hallway outside of the cell. “But I’m not the one you have to convince.” Lucia closed the door with a clang that made him jump. She locked it, gave him a single nod, then walked out of sight.
With a sigh, Oliver put his head back again, saying under his breath, “Fucking mummy. Fucking TikTok. Fucking archaeology department.”
That felt like an appropriate number of fucks to hand out, so he laid on his back and studied the ceiling while he waited for Detective Carter to arrive and haul him away.
Detective Carter arrived not long after Oliver’s conversation with Lucia.
He Mirandized and handcuffed Oliver—hands in front, per Lucia’s suggestion—then signed some paperwork about transfer of a prisoner.
After that, he escorted Oliver outside. A touch of chill was in the night, and Oliver shivered as he wrapped his arms around himself.
Carter had him sit in the back of the police SUV.
Oliver never realized how being in handcuffs made the simple act of moving around so much more difficult.
On the way out of town, they drove past the apartment complex where Oliver lived with Dave.
He was able to catch a glimpse of lighted windows and what he thought might be Cody’s truck in the parking lot.
Just that quick impression helped the vise around his heart loosen a bit.
They were both silent on the drive to Glenmont. If Detective Carter was confident about the evidence he’d found, nothing Oliver said now would make a difference. And it would just be something that could be used against him.
When they arrived at the station, Oliver was alarmed to see a number of news vans parked in the lot. Some had satellite link-ups raised, windows glowing as reporters and editors worked on piecing together footage.
“Fucking hell.” Carter pulled the SUV around to the back of the station. “News gets out fast.”
“Because of me?”
“Don’t get a swelled head. They’re glorifying the terrible way those kids have been killed.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I was just surprised—”
Bright LED lights burst into life, revealing a crowd of people waiting at the back of the station. They started shouting questions before the vehicle had even come to a stop. Carter turned to speak through the wire separating the seats.
“Keep your mouth shut and your head down. Got it?”
All the spit had left Oliver’s mouth. He nodded.
His heart banged hard, and his lungs couldn’t seem to get enough air.
Once he got inside the station, things would be better.
He’d have a chance to ground himself and prepare for whatever questions Carter might throw at him.
In just a few minutes, he would be inside and away from this insanity.
“Here we go.”
Carter opened his door. A cacophony of voices rushed inside, seemingly stealing the air from inside the car.
Oliver swallowed hard. Reporters surrounded the vehicle, cameras practically pressed against the darkened glass to catch even a glimpse of him.
The car seemed to tilt, and he locked his knees to keep from slumping over.
The door beside him yanked open. Carter gripped his upper arm and practically hauled Oliver out of the seat.
His legs were shaky but held him up. People surged around them, thrusting phones and digital recorders in his face.
He squinted in the glare, completely blind and turned around.
All he could do was follow slightly behind as the big detective forged a swath through the mob.
“Did you kill them?”
“Why did you do it?”
“Were you in love with them?”
“Do you work out?”
“Was it werewolves?”
“Are you a werewolf?”
Oliver kept his chin tucked to his chest and allowed himself to be hauled along. He had to resist the urge to shout he was innocent, that someone else had committed these crimes. That something had murdered those people.
At the rear entrance to the station, Carter pounded on the door.
Someone opened it from inside, and Carter propelled him through, closing the door behind them.
The shouting was cut off, the sudden quiet almost as jarring.
Oliver blinked in the low lighting of a long cement hallway, phantom images from the lights outside floating in his vision.
At the far end of the hall, several patrol officers stood staring, Officers Montroig and Keaton among them.
Oliver’s pulse hammered. Carter took him by the arm again and started him walking toward the gathering.
The officers’ eyes were fixed on him, hands on their belts.
Oliver found it even harder to catch his breath.
“Stand down,” Carter said. “I need to get Mr. Berridge through processing and into an interview room.”
The group dispersed, grumbling, and Carter tugged on his arm again.
“How about a phone call?” Oliver asked.
“Once we get you processed. Come on.”