45. Laney
I step outside of the police station.
The detectives had wanted to go over my side of the story again. I went alone, not wanting to upset Reed and the boys. They’ve been even more overprotective of me than usual since the arrest, and I worried that telling them would only get them in trouble.
There’s no physical evidence of what I went through now, so it’s our word against the word of men they haven’t even been able to locate.
If our plan worked, then Smith and his men are already dead out there somewhere, hopefully starved to death or eaten by animals.
I’m just thankful they haven’t made an appearance.
I’m immediately surrounded. I’d been so lost in thought about what had been said inside the interview room that I hadn’t even considered the reporters.
“Laney, did you hide a body at the cabin?”
“Did your stepfather assault you when you were underage?”
“Do you know the identity of the body that was found in the cabin?”
“Miss Flores, Miss Flores. Did your two stepbrothers join in with the abuse? Is Darius Riviera guilty of grooming you, too?”
“Did you have a sexual relationship with your stepfather before the plane crash?”
Their words overlap one another, creating a cacophony of sound. I consider turning around and going back inside the police station, but no one there is my ally either.
Camera lights flash, and I angle my head away. By remaining silent, am I only making us seem guiltier? But I’m terrified if I say something, they’ll only twist my words and make things worse. I can’t win with these people.
I spot a waiting cab and put my head down and go straight to it.
I have to knock people out of the way with my shoulder, to ignore the fluffy booms of microphones shoved in my face.
I picture the sort of shots they’ll be getting of me, the same ones they run online and in the papers.
Of me, too thin and pale, clearly stressed and anxious, looking every part like a victim, but now also possibly considered a killer.
Of course, I am a victim, just not of the men they’re accusing.
I climb into the back of the cab. The driver glances with a frown at the reporters about to surround him.
I give him my address. “Just go,” I beg. “Please.”
Thankfully, because this address is also a short-term rental, the press haven’t found us here yet, though I know it’s only a matter of time. But as I approach the house, I realize the cops are here, too.
My heart sinks.
Had the request to interview me just been a ruse? Had they been trying to get me out of the way?
I pay the driver and jump out.
“What’s going on?” I ask no one in particular.
I spot the detective who interviewed me at the hospital, along with a number of his colleagues. All four doors of the car Reed has leased stand open, as does the lid of the trunk, and officers appear to be rifling around inside.
“Stay right there, Miss Flores,” he says, holding up a hand.
I look to the guys. Cade’s jaw is tense. Reed is shaking his head. Darius just seems confused.
What now? When are we ever going to be able to get a break?
“Got it,” one of the officers shouts and straightens holding a large bag of white powder.
My jaw drops.
Detective Knox takes out a pair of cuffs, as do his colleagues.
“Cade Riviera, Darius Riviera, Reed Riviera, you’re all under arrest for the possession of a class A drug with intent to supply.”
My jaw drops. “What? No! That can’t be right. They haven’t done anything.”
“We’ll find that out in the interview room, won’t we?”
I suddenly realize that with them arrested, I’m going to be left here alone. “No, wait. Arrest me, too. Whatever they did, I would have been involved. We do everything together.”
There’s desperation in Reed’s eyes. Cade is going crazy, and I’m worried he’s going to get himself Tasered if he’s not careful.
Or worse, shot. Darius is frozen in place, his whole body rigid.
How much harder this must be for him. Do they have someone in jail who’ll help him navigate the place, or will he just be expected to manage on his own?
The thought of him inside, getting pushed around by actual criminals, breaks my heart.
I hope they’ll at least be kept together so Cade can watch out for his brother.
The police officer looks at me like I’m crazy. “You want us to arrest you? Don’t waste police time.”
Maybe I should hit them? Then they’d have to arrest me, but I’m just a girl faced with armed men. What kind of damage can I even do?
It must dawn on Reed what I’m afraid of. “Don’t stay here, Laney. Go to a hotel. Pay cash if you can. Don’t let anyone follow you.”
Tears fill my eyes. I can see myself holed up in some crappy motel, the door locked and chained, while I sit on the bed, staring at it, and praying Smith and his friends don’t bust through it.
“It won’t be for long, Laney,” Reed says. “We’ll clear up whatever mistake this is fast and come and find you.”
Will it be too late by then?
My heart breaks in two as the men are hauled away by police officers, their wrists once more cuffed behind their bodies, and are pushed into the backs of the police cars.
I stand, my feet glued to the ground, as they’re driven away.
With my heart pounding, I convince my feet to move and run into the house.
I go to my room. I never unpacked the bag I’d taken to the airport.
There hadn’t seemed to be any point. Though the judge had made us surrender our passports, we’d known we wouldn’t be staying in Los Angeles. It wasn’t safe for us here.
I pick up the bag and wonder where the hell I’m supposed to go.