Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Eileen offered to provide it from her savings, but Dave declined. He’d saved a good chunk of money to put toward a honeymoon, so he had it available. He just had to find out the exact amount, and then get a cashier’s check.
He’d managed maybe three hours of sleep before giving up.
His hand shook as he poured another cup of coffee, the liquid sloshing over the rim.
His eyes felt gritty no matter how many times he knuckled crusts out of them, and a dull headache pulsed steadily.
Clearing his throat, he placed a call to the Glenmont PD and asked the desk clerk if a bail hearing had been set.
“Ah, sure,” the man said. “He’s being arraigned at Judge Harper’s at ten.”
Dave wrote down the judge’s name. “Is that at the courthouse?”
“Courthouse? Nah, it’s his office downtown. At the corner of Bannister and Bridgemont.”
After he’d hung up, he sent Cody a text with the details.
Want me to come along?
No, it’s easier if I do this alone. Thank you.
Got it. I’m probably the last person he’ll want to see after getting out of jail. Let us know when ur home and we can come over if he wants.
Thanks, I’ll let u know.
Love u, little brother.
Dave wiped sudden tears from his eyes before writing back.
Love u, big brother.
The drive to Glenmont took less time than expected.
Judge Harper’s office turned out to be a converted brick colonial house.
He drove past and located a branch of his bank a few blocks down the road, people in the lobby already.
With nowhere else to go and forty minutes until Oliver’s hearing, Dave returned to Judge Harper’s and parked in a small lot in the back.
He put the windows down and reclined his seat a bit.
The spring breeze brought the scents of fresh mulch intermixed with greasy fried meat from a diner down the street. His stomach gurgled.
Minutes slogged by. He checked his phone. 9:42. Two minutes since the last time. He forced himself to put it face down on the passenger seat.
They’d be able to somehow prove Oliver’s innocence once he was released. He had to believe there was no possible way Oliver could be convicted. But nothing would be over until they stopped the mummy.
One thing at a time. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sounds of life going on around him. A large truck rumbled past on the street out front. Birds scolded and twittered. Bass thumped ear-shatteringly loud from a car Dave guessed was heading toward campus.
He grabbed his phone. It was 9:47. Good enough.
The front door opened to an entry foyer with a tile floor and hooks for coats. A desk was positioned facing the door. Behind it, a woman sat typing on a computer keyboard. She glanced over when he entered, her fingers never slowing.
“Be with you in a moment. Have a seat.”
There were two simple metal frame chairs against the wall. Dave sat in one, leg bouncing and fingers gripping his phone. He blew out a slow breath and focused on the clacking of the keyboard.
“Who are you here for?” the woman asked, her fingers finally at rest.
“Oliver Berridge.”
“He’s being brought over now. Judge will be down shortly. What’s your name?”
Dave stood as he gave his name. She typed something then started flipping through papers. He fidgeted a bit before sitting again.
Boards on the upper floor creaked and someone with a heavy tread descended the stairs. The man was big and broad, on his way to obese. White hair gleamed, and his wide, ruddy face was relaxed and friendly.
“Good morning, young man,” he said in a booming voice.
Dave stood again. “Oh, um. Good morning, sir. Um, Your Honor, sir.”
He laughed. “I’m Judge Bernard Harper. You’re here for Oliver Berridge?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
The judge patted Dave’s shoulder. “First bail arraignment?”
Dave’s breath rushed out, leaving him with shaky legs as he managed a smile. “Yes, sir.”
“No firing squad here.”
“Bernie…” the woman said without looking up from the paperwork she was assembling.
“Just a judicial joke,” Harper said with a wink, then turned toward the woman. “How’s our schedule today, Claudia?”
While they talked about hearing times and court proceedings, Dave sat again. The sound of a door toward the back of the house caught everyone’s attention. Judge Harper turned to Dave.
“Sounds like Mr. Berridge has arrived.” He waved toward a doorway Dave guessed led to what had once been the home’s living room. “Have a seat inside. We’ll get things started right quick.”
Dave entered the room. Two rows of metal-framed chairs were lined up with an aisle down the middle, all facing a large wooden desk arranged in front of a brick fireplace. He chose a seat in the front row. He ran his palms up and down his thighs.
The front door opened, and more people stopped to speak to Claudia. The new arrivals, a man and a woman, entered the hearing room and chose seats on the opposite side of the room from Dave. The man met Dave’s gaze and gave him a nod.
A short time later, Judge Harper entered the room. He wore a black robe and carried a coffee cup.
“Good morning, everyone,” he said as he ambled down the middle aisle, the material of his robe making whisking sounds.
“We’ll try to get everyone heard and out of here as quickly as possible.
You can help me move this process along by being respectful, speaking only when addressed by myself, an officer of the law, or Claudia.
Just because we aren’t in a traditional courtroom does not mean this is not a legitimate legal proceeding.
” He sat in a padded office chair and pulled himself up to the desk.
Looking at all of them, including four people who had just taken their seats near the back, the judge raised his thick white eyebrows. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Dave and the others all said together.
“Very good. This might be a good day yet. All right, who are we kicking things off with, Claudia?”
“Oliver Berridge, Your Honor,” Claudia called from the entryway.
Dave’s pulse jumped. A light sheen of sweat broke out across his lower back.
He turned in his chair and watched as a patrol officer led Oliver down the center aisle.
The hard edge of the chair’s frame bit into his palm.
The vinyl seat squeaked as he shifted position.
Oliver’s hands were cuffed behind his back, and dark circles shadowed his eyes, but he still wore his clothes from the night before.
When he saw Dave, he smiled, but it looked forced.
The officer had Oliver stand to one side of the judge’s desk, then took a couple of steps back.
Dave tried to pay attention to what the judge said, but the blood pounding in his ears and his brain glitching between online and offline made it difficult.
He was able to make out the phrases “first time offender,” and “no eyewitnesses,” before the judge stated, “Bail set at $100,000,” and smacked his gavel.
Another rush of emotion swept through Dave. $100,000 was so much. But all he had to pay today was ten percent of it. He had $10,000, and he was prepared to run to the bank. It would get done, but the fact that he needed to do it at all felt so unreal.
As Oliver was led away, he glanced over, eyes wide. Dave started to follow, but Judge Harper called his name.
“Mr. Berridge is being taken back to the holding cell at the police department. In twenty-four hours, he will be transferred to county jail if you don’t post bail. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I’m going to the bank now.”
“Very good. See Claudia on the way out, she’ll explain what’s needed.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Thank you.”
Dave approached Claudia as she called out a new name, and then he dodged to the side to get out of the path of an officer marching another prisoner to go before the judge. The front door opened to admit several more people. It was all just one long process.
He took a breath and stopped in front of Claudia. “What do I do next?”
After what felt like days, Oliver finally emerged from the Glenmont police station. Dave met him halfway between the car and the station. He pulled Oliver into a crushing hug and buried his face in Oliver's neck. He smelled like fear-sweat and industrial cleaner.
"I'm sorry," Oliver said into his shoulder.
"Don't." Dave's voice cracked. "Don't apologize. We're getting through this together."
Oliver pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "Together."
"Always."
Dave pulled him in again. He heard a muttered “Faggots,” from someone going inside. Dave’s jaw clenched and he tightened the hug.
After a moment, Dave held him at arm's length, gripping his shoulders. He couldn’t seem to let go of him. “I need you to hear me. You're not alone in this. Not for one second. Okay?"
Oliver's eyes glistened. "Okay."
"We figure this out together. We deal with whatever supernatural bullshit comes next as a team. We are absolutely still getting married.”
Oliver squinted. "Did you practice that speech?"
Dave laughed harder than he had in days, and tears blurred his vision. Oliver laughed with him and moved in close. Once their frantic humor had settled, Dave tipped his head toward the car.
“Ready to go back home?”
“So ready.”
Once they were in the car, Dave gripped the steering wheel but didn't start the engine.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
Oliver stared out the windshield. "No. But I will be." He turned to Dave. "What happened at the arraignment?"
“Not much after they took you out. I posted bail and now here you are.”
“Ten thousand?”
“Yeah.”
“Did my grandma give it to you?”
Dave took his hand. “She offered, but I had it in savings. The only important part is you’re out and we’re going home.”
“Yeah.”
Dave started the car and exited the lot. Oliver watched the town move by, gripping his phone. “What day of the week is it?”
It took him a couple of seconds to figure it out himself. “Friday.”
“Eight days until our wedding.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Dave glanced over. “Sure you’re okay?”
Oliver’s smile looked tight. “I’d like to check on Robin. They were brought in for questioning because of me. Do you mind?”
His first instinct was to say yes, I mind. I want to get you home where you’ll be safe. But when he saw Oliver’s expression, he softened. “No, I don’t. But we’re both exhausted, so it has to be a quick stop.”
“Oh my God, absolutely. I do not have the battery life for a long sit-down with that over-caffeinated kid. I just want to make sure they’re doing okay.”
Oliver sent Robin a text asking if it was okay for them to stop by. Robin replied immediately with the address for their sister’s house.
Thorndale was on the way to Parson’s Hollow, and Oliver navigated using the app on his phone until Dave pulled up in front of a brick colonial that reminded him of Judge Harper’s office. Robin sat on the porch steps and bounced to their feet, hurrying to the car as Dave and Oliver got out.
“Hi!” Robin grabbed Oliver in a hug before stepping back with a blush. “Sorry, I got carried away. I should have asked before hugging you.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Oliver squeezed Robin’s upper arm.
“Hi, Dave,” Robin said.
Dave nodded.
“How are you doing?” Oliver asked.
“I’m in a weird headspace. Being questioned like that was intense. They asked me a lot of really personal questions, and then hit me with something about Vera or Samira. It felt like they really wanted to pin this all on the queers in their sights instead of do the work.”
“Do the work to prove a mummy came back to life and started killing the people who opened his coffin?” Oliver said.
Robin huffed and crossed their arms. “Yeah, okay. It’s fucked up all the way around, isn’t it?” They looked off down the street, then back at Oliver. “You’re all over the local news. And I think some bigger networks have picked it up.”
Oliver slumped back against the side of the car. “Great.”
Dave squeezed his shoulder and redirected the conversation. “Have you learned anything new, Robin?”
“Gosh, I don’t know. It’s been a lot. That video Vera made of us was in her cloud account and the police were able to download it. But we didn’t do anything wrong. Dylan was the one acting threatening. And Dr. Brennan.”
“They threatened you?” Dave asked Oliver.
“No, not directly.” He pushed up from the car. “Dylan crowded me, and Dr. Brennan said some stuff. But nothing physical.”
“Everything but,” Robin grumbled. “Hey, are you still going to be in class?”
Oliver huffed. “I hope to be. I’m going to try to catch up on assignments this weekend.”
“Cool.”
The front door opened. A woman in her early thirties came out and stood on the porch, arms crossed tight, mouth a firm line.
“That’s my sister.” Robin had lowered their voice. “She’s not real happy I’ve gotten mixed up in this.”
“Robin. Come back inside.”
“I will, I’m just—”
“Now, please.”
They sighed and gave Oliver a miserable look. “Thanks for coming by. I’m glad you’re out of jail.”
“Thanks, me, too.”
Robin turned away and trudged up to the house. Their sister let them go inside but remained on the porch, watching Dave and Oliver.
“Let’s go home,” Dave said, and he opened the passenger door for Oliver to get in.
He rounded the front of the car, got behind the wheel, and drove slowly down the street.
In the rearview mirror, he could see Robin’s sister watching, arms still crossed and face unreadable, until he turned the corner out of her sight.