CHAPTER 18DENISE
CHAPTER 18
DENISE
Cleo had me pulling as much information as I could from my private social media accounts so she could craft a narrative to post. Thankfully I had a common name because that meant searching for me popped up tons of different people. I was collecting links and asking questions while she did the heavy lifting.
She was reporting comments on videos, and she’d even emailed the webmaster for the podcast and the podcaster, politely, but firmly requesting that all mention of our names be stripped from the comment section and clips of the video be removed. Once she had a template, she was in a groove and time flew by as I bulleted out the perfect rosy portrait of myself.
Comments were already being pulled down by the time we paused for dinner at eleven. We were two bottles in, so we opted to stay our tipsy asses inside and ordered from a sushi place down the street. Cleo had turned on our saucy mix playlist, and I was dancing toward the trash with our empty containers when I heard something outside.
That’s when I saw the red and blue lights bouncing around the street. The curtains were drawn, so I couldn’t see much, but the lights were far too close for comfort. A bad feeling settled in my stomach. I tapped the top of the speaker, stopping Janet in the middle of singing about an escapade.
There was a bit of silence that filled the room as I looked from the window to Cleo, as she stopped mid-ass shake.
“Den, what—”
She stopped talking as a booming voice spoke over a loudspeaker outside.
“This is the San Francisco police department. Residents of 907 Church Street, unit two. Come out with your hands up.”
Her apartment was unit two. The police were ordering us to come outside.
My stomach fell through the floor, but I couldn’t freak out. The color had drained from her face. It wasn’t the first encounter she’d had with the police, and I knew she wasn’t here, she was back in that moment. A moment she never talked about that had scarred her and sent her running from LA.
“Cleo,” I said to her, holding out my hand.
Her movements were jerky as she walked over and grabbed my hand tight. I squeezed hers back, hoping that I could ground her and keep her from getting lost in her memories.
“Hey. We’re just going to listen to them. I’m here,” my voice sounded sure and strong, the exact opposite of what I felt at that moment. One of us had to be strong, and I was okay with it being me this time.
She was gazing at me with wide, petrified eyes, and I pulled her closer to me. I could feel my heart beating in my throat. I tried to swallow, and I felt like I was choking. Strong. I had to be strong. This wasn’t the time to break down. I could break later. Later.
“We have to do what they say so they don’t bust the damn door down. We’ll be good.” The surety in my voice had to have come from somewhere else, someplace deep down that I didn’t realize existed because my brain knew that they could shoot into the house at any second.
She shook her head as tears pooled in her eyes. “Den, I can’t—”
“You can. We can . Watch.”
Swallowing again at the lump, I took sure steps towards the front door, opening it very, very slowly.
“We’re here. There are two of us. Unarmed. We’re coming out,” I shouted through the opening. I took another stealing breath before placing my empty hands out through the open door and pushing it open all the way.
“We’re unarmed. This is a mistake!” I yelled, leaving my empty hands in clear view.
“Should I grab the phon—”
“No. Just, slowly walk over here and keep your hands out,” I said, watching as she stood next to me and held her hands out too. My hands shook as I stood at the door waiting for further instructions.
“Suspect one. Walk out of the doorway and keep your hands raised.” My heart was thundering against my rib cage, but I did as I was told, moving slowly out the door and keeping my hands high. I could see the stairs in front of me.
“Walk down the steps.”
I took each step slowly and carefully, trying hard not to look at the bright ass lights, flashlights that I knew sat right by their guns. I didn’t need to see the guns to know that they were pointed right at me. I felt my breathing becoming shallow and willed my lungs to take in more air.
They’re not going to shoot. They’re not going to shoot.
The words were a refrain. A chant. If I repeated them enough, maybe I could make them true. All that was running through my head was that I wished Hugh was here. I wished I’d called my mother back instead of texting her. I wished I’d started really living my life sooner.
“Turn around and walk back towards the sound of my voice,” I heard someone behind me say.
My first step back was unsteady, and I felt a sob rise in my throat.
Why was this happening? Had this day not been crazy enough?
“Hey. You’re doing good, there’s nothing behind you. Keep walking toward me,” the officer said.
“Second resident, slowly walk out the doorway and keep your hands raised.” The voice was on the loudspeaker, and I saw Cleo move into the doorway. Her chest was moving up and down as tears came down her face. She was taking each step like it was going to be her last, and my heart broke for her.
“This is a mistake, sir,” I repeated. I was trying to keep my tone polite but watching her fall apart replaced the terror with rage.
“Okay, that’s far enough. Stop. Is anyone else in the home?” he asked.
“No.”
“Your name?” I heard cuffs behind me, and my heart plopped to the floor again.
“Denise Roberts.”
“Okay, Ms. Roberts. I’m going to detain you right now while we investigate the call.”
“Detain me?” I asked as he grabbed my right and left hands and cuffed them behind my back. I felt something push against my wrist as he began to talk.
“Those folks are going to enter the home. You’re sure no one is in there?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s just me and my friend. Can you tell me what’s going on?”
There was a brief pause before he said, “We got a call that someone named Mike from Michigan was screaming that he had a bomb that he was going to use to blow everythingup.”
The fear flooding through me stopped as his words registered. Mike from… Mike from Michigan? If I wasn’t equal parts furious and terrified, I’d have laughed. He couldn’t be serious. This was a joke.
“That’s from Money Talks .”
Someone had a fucked-up sense of humor. That and the 911 dispatcher really needed to watch more classic 2000s comedies.
He paused for a second and muttered, “Aww shit,” as a few officers walked into Cleo’s apartment, guns drawn.
“Is there anything on you that’s gonna harm me?” he asked.
I bit my tongue and kept my snarky reply to myself, saying, “No.”
There was a snap of rubber behind me as his gloved hands felt around the front of my chest. I closed my eyes as he patted me down, his hands grabbing and feeling down my body.
“The apartment is empty,” a voice said over the radio.
The guy behind me buzzed his radio, “Yeah, I think this is a hoax. One of those swatting calls.”
“Come on over here, ma’am, I’ll take your statement,” he said, walking me over to his car.
“Swatting?” I sighed, “Someone doxxed us this morning.”
“And you think it could be connected?” he asked. Why wouldn’t they be connected? Another dumb ass question with an obvious answer. “Got it,” he said, reading my frustration.
My eyes found Cleo sitting on the curb, her hands cuffed behind her back. I turned around and looked at the face of the cop for the first time. My eyes got wet when I realized he was black.
“You’re doing your jobs, I get that,” I said, inspecting him, hoping that my tone revealed there was no anger towards him and his colleagues.
“The call was fake. I’m sure you’re getting that. I just—can you uncuff her? She’s been…” Stopping, I took a breath and hoped that he could read between the lines because it wasn’t my story to tell. “We’ll answer all your questions. Do what you need to, but please uncuff her. Please.”
He must’ve seen what I was trying to convey in my eyes because he nodded.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, taking two steps away. He motioned to the officer standing beside Cleo. After a few moments, he walked over to me and his colleague uncuffed her while he unlocked me. My heart was in my throat as she slumped forward and wiped her face with shaking hands.
“Tell me a little more about what you were doing here tonight,” he said, putting his cuffs back on his waist.
“A video we were in went viral. Some personal information about us is popping up. We were taking screenshots. I can provide it all to you,” I said, my hands feeling my wrists.
“Alright, let’s take a look,” he said, motioning towards the apartment.