Chapter 31
Sitting in a jail cell contemplating murder was never something I had envisioned for my future. I knew it was a distinct possibility at some point. You didn’t grow up in the neighborhoods I grew up in or with the limited resources that we’d had and not realize that jail for many people was an inevitability.
Some people ended up here because they were lazy and took shortcuts, others because they were desperate and had no other options, and some just did dumb shit.
None of those were the reason I was sitting in this cell. I was here because I’d had the audacity to develop feelings for an asshole with money and power.
I didn’t know what Harrison was trying to pull, but he was right. If I were processed, I wouldn’t be mad or upset, I’d be terrified. If I were processed, fingerprinted, and put into the system, then I would have a record, and the chances of me getting into the bar were slim to none.
It actually would become extremely unlikely that I would ever be accepted into any type of law school. Grades, letters of recommendation, and my work ethic would all be worthless. Years of scrimping and saving and putting every other aspect of my life last would have been for nothing.
Harrison knew that, and I was pretty sure that was why I hadn’t been processed yet. He wanted something, and he was going to hold my entire future over my head to get it. Or maybe he was just trying to prove a point.
He was such a dick.
I had just been thrown in a cell like they were throwing somebody in a drunk tank so they could sober up before sending them home.
Thankfully, this was a smaller precinct, and the women’s cell was currently empty. Still, I paced back and forth in the tiny little room, waiting.
Waiting for Harrison to show up and reveal his master plan or to berate me or yell at me or do whatever other heavy-handed, privileged shit he was ready to do and then let me go.
I didn’t understand why he interrupted my date with Patrick. I knew he didn’t want me flirting with him before, but I thought that was just petty jealousy. Or that he thought it was unprofessional, but he hadn’t said two words to me since he kicked me off of his desk.
“Hey, am I going to get a phone call?” I yelled for probably the fifteenth time.
Nobody was sitting at the desks in front of the cell, and nobody was around as far as I could see. Maybe they had just forgotten they stashed me in here, and I would be stuck until someone came into work.
“That depends. Who are you going to call?” Harrison casually strolled down the hallway with his hands tucked in his pants pockets.
“Are you charging me with something?”
“Should I be?”
“If you’re not charging me, you need to let me go.” I tightened my grip on the metal bars.
“Actually, I can hold you for twenty-four hours. And I just arrested your date on RICO charges, so I can keep this going for quite some time. You may be a suspect. You could have been talking about anything at that romantic little restaurant.”
I moved as close to him as possible, pressing my body against the bars.
“You had no right to have me arrested.”
“I had every right to have you arrested. Detective Doyle has been charged with a whole slew of charges. Well, I’m sure you know what the charges are seeing as you’ve been working the case with me for weeks.”
I crossed my arms. “I was working the case with you, until you dumped me on another attorney after falsely accusing me of losing a file.”
Not taking the bait, Harrison pressed on. “Did you know Doyle’s mother’s maiden name is O’Murphy?”
“Fuck,” I said as I sat down, realizing that I had been on a date with a dirty cop.
I thought he was asking about my work to make conversation. I didn’t realize he was actually trying to suss out what information Harrison already had.
“Did you two talk about the cases that you’re working on?”
“He did ask,” I admitted. “But I was telling him about the case I’m working on now, and even then, it was all very general information. I know not to disclose an active investigation to anyone, even an officer of the law.”
“Good. Did you tell him anything about the case that we were working on?”
“No.” Fuck, I had misjudged this entire situation.
“Why did you agree to go on a date with him at all?”
I shrugged my shoulders when I looked up at him. A line was forming between his brows. Something I had only ever seen happen when he was annoyed.
“Tell me, Eddie, why did you agree to go on a date with him? Do you find him attractive?”
“Not really,” I admitted.
“Then why did you go out with him?”
“Because he asked,” I said.
“I admit I am a little disappointed in you.” His voice was stern, and hearing he was disappointed in me made my cheeks heat, and I suddenly wanted to curl in on myself and cry. I didn’t, but I really wanted to. I had never felt like such a fool or a failure before.
“Look, are you going to charge me or not? Because I have a lot of things that I need to get done.” I was proud of myself for saying that and not letting any of my emotions through.
“I haven’t made up my mind yet.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “But I’m willing to let you plead your case. Why should I just let you go?”
“Because I didn’t do anything,” I bit out as I stood back up and paced in my small cell.
“Didn’t you though? Let’s go over the facts, Ms. Carmichael. True or false, you broke into my office on two separate occasions to use my private bathroom?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just answer the question,” he said. “True or false.”
Looking back at him, I bared my teeth. “Relevance, counselor?”
“Speaks to the character of the accused, not to mention motive.” He casually leaned on the edge of one of the desks. His body language said he was relaxed, maybe even a little bored, but something in his eyes made my stomach clench. He was enjoying this, laying a trap, and I didn’t know what it was or how to avoid it.
“I don’t want to play your little game.”
“What you want is irrelevant. Answer the question. I caught you breaking into my office on two separate occasions. True or false, Ms. Carmichael.”
“True.”
“Both times I caught you, you were in various stages of undress. One could assume that you were trying to distract me from your break-in with your body.”
“Objection. You can’t speak to my motivations.”
“Overruled.” He waved his hand dismissively.
“Any judge would have your comments stricken from the record,” I fired back, straightening my spine, ready to argue my case.
“Do you see a judge here, Ms. Carmichael? Right now, I am the only judge you get. There is no jury or record. I even had the cameras turned off. Right now, it is just you and me.”
“Does that mean you are my judge, jury, and executioner? I have rights, counselor.”
“You do. This little conversation isn’t to determine your guilt. It’s to determine your future. This debate will determine if I press charges or let you out of that cell.”
He stood from the desk and ate the distance between us up in two long strides. His intense blue eyes stared down at me, and I had to crane my neck back to meet his gaze. My heart was thundering in my ears, and I wanted to shrink back, but I knew I couldn’t give up ground. I gripped the bars tightly and feigned a strength I didn’t know I had.
“Ask your questions.”
“Is it true or false that you were previously warned away from flirting with Detective Patrick Doyle?”
“Yes, but?—”
“And is it true that you agreed not to speak to him again?”
“Yes, but—” I was getting flustered.
“Is it or is it not true that you have worked several hours on the case I am currently building against the O’Murphy family.”
“Yes, but?—”
“Is it true that you had access to all the files, every single bit of evidence I have gathered? In fact, wouldn’t it be fair to say that you are the only person other than myself to have access to everything?”
The way he growled out each word made my heart race and my cheeks flush. I had heard about his prowess in the courtroom. Some of the lawyers gossiped about him. They said he was driven and single-minded, like a warrior going to battle. They said he was all power and precision, a true alpha male. I thought I knew what they were talking about. I was wrong.
“Is it true that a few hours ago, I caught you sitting at an intimate table with Detective Patrick Doyle?”
“Yes.” My voice was shaky, and I moved away from the bars, trying to at least get control of myself by looking away.
He took the keys from his pocket and opened the cell.
Marching over to me, he grabbed my throat and pressed me against the cold cinder block wall.
“Look at me.” It wasn’t a request. His fingers tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to make sure I knew he was in control. He made the decisions. The only thing I could do was look into his steely eyes and obey. “Tell me the real reason you went on that date.”
“I was hoping spending time with him would make me want you less.” It didn’t even occur to me to lie.
“Did it?”
“No.” I answered honestly again.
I hadn’t been able to get Harrison out of my head. It didn’t help that I saw him come and go all day or that his driver still picked me up and brought me to and from work and the loaner apartment.
“I find you guilty, Ms. Carmichael. I find you guilty of disobeying, distracting, and being willfully insubordinate to me. Before I give you your sentence, I have one more question.”