6. Off the books
Off the books
Elena
I’m not sure what hurts more, my pounding head, or my back from sleeping on the hard-ass metal bed in the holding cell.
They both are fighting for all of my attention.
I guess the only small perk is that this is a tiny jail. I’ve purposefully not asked for a lawyer because I’m not ready for anyone to know the truth.
But that sheriff had a genuine look of concern when he was talking to me yesterday. Almost like he cared.
Was it a game he was playing? Did he really know my mom?
She was happier when I was little, I think. I have happy memories of her reading me books and laughing when I was being silly at the park near our old house.
But I also remember her trying to hide the bruises. And how much she cried that last time when my father beat her so badly she could hardly breathe.
Maybe I should be grateful for the cops that showed up and took him away. Was it really the sheriff that was there?
I can’t recall. I was barely ten, and that whole thing is a blur of screaming and rage, followed by months of running while Mom tried to heal.
Then it was taking care of Cynthia while we tried to rebuild our lives in a new state with a distant family I didn’t even know.
They tried to shame her as if the abuse was her fault.
I still hate her sister for it.
Heavy footsteps echo down the concrete hall making me rush to sit up.
Is this how I want to spend the rest of my life? With a wall of bars and on display?
My stomach knots at the thought of never having privacy again. And what good will I be to Cynthia if I’m trapped in prison?
Or if I’m gone?
I fucking hate this, that’s what.
“Mornin’.” Sheriff Rowland stops in front of the steel cage I’m stuck in, a tray of bland food in his hand.
It looks tiny in his broad grip.
He slides it through a wide slit in the bars to land on an extended edge.
“Shooting those eye darts at me won’t help you none.
” His palms raise. “I went and checked on my buddy and his wife yesterday. You know, the ones you’ve been harassing the last few weeks?
Good news, he’s gonna live. Bad news, she wants to come down here and tear your head off.
” He gives me a lopsided grin under his dark red beard. “I wouldn’t want to mess with her.”
Shit, I’d deserve it.
I don’t know them from anyone, yet I’ve caused them all that damn grief.
Guilt boils into a sour taste in the back of my throat, killing whatever appetite I may have had. It’s just another nail in my coffin. Not only did I fail my sister, but I’ve hurt innocent people and animals along the way.
“Let her,” I say quietly, tugging the thin blanket under my chin.
His brows knit over a frown, then he turns and drags a folding chair to the front of the bars.
He pulls his tan cowboy hat off his head, gesturing towards the silver badge that’s fixed to the front of it.
“There’s no cameras, no interrogation room, Elena.
Right now, I’m not a cop.” To emphasize his point, he tosses his cap onto the floor.
“I’m a family friend. I really, truly, want to help figure out what is going on.
Those people that own that dairy? They’re some of my very best friends in the world.
I should be pissed beyond all belief about what you did.
” He stops, his knuckles turning white as he squeezes his fingers.
“I’m mad as hell that there’s someone out there who wanted this done.
” He takes a deep breath, slowly exhaling the smell of coffee through my cell. “But I know you ain’t them.”
He looks up, the pain apparent in his mahogany colored eyes.
Is this some new technique they teach in police school?
The touch of gray at his temples tells me he’s long out of classes.
Could he really be telling me the truth?
“How well did you know my mom?” I ask quietly, reaching for the tray. It’s a microwave breakfast, but it’s hot.
He props his elbows on his knees, his shoulders hunching. “I met her for the first time when you were brought into the hospital with a suspicious injury. It was one of my first cases.”
“Was that my broken arm?” I was trying to stand in front of Mom because my dad was screaming at her.
He grabbed me and threw me out of the way.
Sheriff Rowland nods without looking at me. “Then again when she ‘fell down the stairs’.” He tosses his fingers in air quotes as he says it. “The best thing that happened to her was getting the job at the Frozen Bones serving ice cream and coffee.”
“I love that place.” It’s a million times better than the mushy eggs and overcooked sausage patty I’m trying to chew now.
He chuckles as he straightens, patting his belly.
“Yea, I put on about twenty pounds that summer keeping an eye on her. Your dad had a way of showing up and trying to cause a ruckus. Me and another deputy swapped out stopping by.” He gets a faraway stare at a point somewhere over my head. “Took me two years to work it off.”
What the hell? There were never any cops there when I’d show up after school.
There were always a ton of other kids there, it probably kept Dad at bay.
“Okay, you knew her.” I’m not sure why, but it makes me feel more comfortable with him.
He’s a link to the past, and a happier time.
“You know they blamed her for what he did.” I swirl the coffee in the bottom of the tin cup. It’s almost cool by the time I take a sip. “My grandmother used to yell at Mom for being a bad wife, and that she must have done something to deserve it.”
His chest rumbles so deeply I can almost feel the vibrations.
“No one asks for that.” He tilts backwards, kicking his feet out in front of him and crossing his arms. “That’s the biggest buncha bullshit I’ve heard today.”
“That’s what I thought too!” I exclaim, nearly spilling my drink. “I was starting to wonder if I was crazy. Mom was so scared my dad would find her, she didn’t want to take any on the books jobs since they asked for ID.” I think that’s what started the spiral.
His copper whiskers twist as he frowns. “Yea, she was hiding pretty good. Needle in the haystack. Shit, needle in a stack of needles.”
Huh. Was he looking for her?
“Well, it made her take on some shady crap,” I sigh, setting down my empty cup. “She got tied in with the wrong people.” I squint at him as I try to decide if I should tell him about my sister.
If he starts trying to track her down, Max will find out.
The last thing in the world I want is for her to get hurt. If he thinks I talked…
A shiver works down my spine.
She’s too fucking young to be wrapped up in all of this. I just need to keep that detail out.
“So these ‘wrong people’?” The sheriff’s palm cups the air as he encourages me. “Are they the ones who put you up to this?”
All I can do is nod. Those fake ass eggs aren’t sitting well.
I might just hurl onto my lap.
“Did they tell you why?” His lips purse as he watches me.
My shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “Just that the people that own that BG brand took something very important to them, and they were making them pay.” Fisting the worn blue blanket, I pound it against my knee.
“I didn’t want anyone to get hurt!” My voice rises.
“No one was supposed to! God, those poor cows…” Their image haunted me all night.
He runs his thick fingers through his hair. When it falls, it covers his eyes like a mane.
That’s what he reminds me of, a lion in the way he moves and watches.
“Elena—” His words carry a heavy husk. “—you know you’re going to have to give me names? I have to be able to track them down. If you do, I can probably get you a greatly reduced sentence. Maybe even out on bail—”
“No, I can’t.” A tremor works into my tone.
“Is it—” He pauses, his dark eyes fixing on me. “—your boyfriend? Husband? Are they being threatened?”
My head shakes on its own before I even register the question.
“Do you have someone like that who can keep you safe once you’re out?” He keeps pushing for all of these answers, as if there’s actually hope I’ll get out of here.
“No, it’s just me.” And my sister.
His palm wipes down his face, then he leans back with a groan. Pressing on his knees, he raises until he towers over his chair, then moves it against the wall.
When he leans over to pick up his hat, he wiggles his fingers for my tray.
“I’m gonna work on the D.A. to see if we can figure something out. If I find you a safe place, would you consider filling in more gaps?” He fidgets with the brim, then finally sets it over his russet curls.
I guess he’s on duty again.
“Maybe? Oh, Sheriff? Thanks for watching my mom. It’s nice to know she had some safe times.” I always wondered why she loved the ice cream parlor job so much.
Now it makes sense that it was the only time she felt protected.
The corner of his mouth turns up as the other side falls into a frown. “Yea, it was the least I could do.” He glances down at my empty dishes, then meets my gaze. “Please, call me Wade.”
As his footsteps fade, I tug the itchy blanket higher under my chin.
He’s given me a glimmer of hope. But at what cost?