Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
AVERY
I was not enjoying jail.
I’d made the mistake of drinking both waters along with the granola bar before I realized that if I wanted to do anything about my full bladder, I’d have to use the exposed toilet in the corner—and that was not happening.
I could probably start shouting to get someone’s attention, but the indignity of that kept my mouth shut. I could hold it for now.
I paced the cell, waiting for something to happen—anything. Since West left, I’d been alone in here except for the still-sleeping drunk at the other end. The door at the end of the hall was closed, cutting off the rest of the police station from this small block of cells.
I couldn’t stop trying to play out what would happen next.
I knew West wouldn’t abandon me here, even if he was still angry at me over our argument.
He would, at the very least, call Griffen and tell him his sister was in jail.
He wouldn’t trash a lifelong friendship over the small fight we’d had.
Unless he was angrier than I’d realized .
I shook my head, striding from one side of the cell to the other. It was possible, but it didn’t feel right. West was mad. I’d been mad. Neither of us was pissed off enough to do anything unforgivable.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about Ford—about his guilty plea and the year he’d spent in prison. They hadn’t had much more on him than they seemed to have on me. At least no one had been hurt at the brewery. That I knew of. Fuck, I didn’t know anything, locked back here by myself.
Hold it together, Avery.
And I would. I could. I was not going to fall apart now, but I hated this cell. The cold concrete and metal bars, the flaking paint, and the smell of sweat and the reek of smoke coming from me. I needed a shower and clean clothes. I wanted to go to sleep for a week. I wanted out.
I crossed my arms over my chest and slowed my pacing, my bladder making itself more known.
Finally, I gave up and sat, squeezing my knees together.
How long had I been here? I didn’t wear a watch these days, and they’d taken my phone.
It was hard to gauge the passage of time.
There was a window opposite the cell, but it was frosted over, with metal lines crisscrossing the glass.
The light coming through was the same shade of weak yellow it had been when I’d arrived.
The door at the end of the hall swung open, and West was there. He met my eyes but said nothing. I couldn’t read his expression. He looked serious. Was he mad? He was something, but whatever it was, he kept it tucked deep inside, and I couldn’t read his face .
He approached the door to the cell and pulled out a set of keys. “Let’s go,” he said, unlocking the door and swinging it open.
I followed him to the door at the end of the hall. When he stayed silent, I swallowed my humiliation and said, “Bathroom?”
West’s step hitched, and he stopped, turning and pointing to a door on the same hall as his office. “Be quick,” he said.
I popped in, relieved my painful bladder, and washed my hands longer than usual, as if I could somehow get the smell of smoke off me just by cleaning my hands.
West was waiting for me in the hall when I exited the bathroom.
He lifted his chin, pointing to a door I hadn’t noticed off to the left.
I followed and found myself in the rear parking lot of the police station.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Clinic first, to get you checked out,” he said, leading me to his SUV.
“I think I’m fine,” I said, very aware that I was not wearing handcuffs. Why not? I wanted to ask, but I kept my mouth shut, not entirely sure I wanted the answer. “I haven’t coughed in a while.”
“I want the doc to check out your lungs,” West said. I knew by his tone that resisting would be a waste of time.
“Okay,” I agreed. I’d had one argument with West over stupid shit this week.
I didn’t want to have another. I’d been caught in a burning building, too frantic to get out to really think about how much smoke I might have inhaled.
I knew that could be dangerous. Considering he might bring me straight back to that cell afterward, it made sense to enjoy the fresh air while I had it.
The short drive to the clinic was silent.
West appeared occupied by his thoughts, and I was too much of a chicken to start a conversation.
It felt like an awkward time to apologize for my part in our fight.
And considering I was a suspect in a felony, maybe I should take Jim’s advice and keep my mouth shut.
West led me into the clinic, where the receptionist waved us straight back to an exam room. We weren’t there more than a minute before Dr. Green stepped in. I didn’t know him well; he was new to town, but he’d been in for a beer once or twice.
He slipped a pulse ox monitor on my finger and pulled out his stethoscope. “I don’t need you to get into a gown,” he said, “but if you could pull up the back of your shirt, I’ll have a listen.”
The cold stethoscope burned icy circles into my skin as I drew in the deepest breaths I could manage without hacking my lungs out.
“I think you got lucky, Avery,” Dr. Green said. “Your lungs sound okay, blood oxygen and pulse rate are normal. It was smart to come in and get checked, but you’re good to go.”
“Thanks, Doc,” I said.
“Anytime.”
My gut went cold again as I followed West out of the clinic and back to his SUV.
That had been too fast, and I wasn’t ready to go back to that concrete box, to breathe in stale sweat and the reek of smoke clinging to my skin.
But when we pulled out onto the main road, West didn’t turn toward the station.
“Where are we going?” I asked, breaking the heavy silence.
“My place,” he said.
I stared at him, eyes wide, mouth hanging open just enough that I probably looked like a stunned fish. “Aren’t I supposed to be in prison?”
“Jail,” West corrected, “not prison. Prison is something else. And no.”
“Did you find who set the fire?” I asked, thoroughly confused. They must have found the arsonist if he was letting me out.
West shook his head. “Not yet. But I will.”
“Then how? Jim arrested me.” I couldn’t make the pieces fit in my head. Nothing I knew of West jived with him letting a prisoner out of jail just because. I’d known West most of my life; he’d always been a by-the-book, black and white kind of guy, even when he was a kid. “Then how?” I asked again.
West pulled into his driveway, put the SUV in park, and turned to look at me, really look at me. I still couldn’t read his expression, or maybe I was afraid to.
“I called in a favor. Judge Claremont released you on your own recognizance. You can’t leave town, but for now, you don’t need to sit in jail either.” He rounded the hood and came to open my door.
I sat there feeling poleaxed. West had called in a favor to get me out of jail. I couldn’t believe the words that came out of my mouth as I jumped out of the car. “You can’t, West. Why would you?— ”
“Not out here,” he said, closing my door and guiding me up the steps to his porch, staying close, as if shielding me from view.
I followed him inside, tension building until I wanted to explode with words. The second the door was shut, I did. “You called in a favor to get me out? West, is that going to get you in trouble? You can’t... You never call in favors. You never make exceptions.”
“Avery,” he shot out, cutting me off. “I wasn’t leaving you in there.”
“I didn’t set the fire,” I said.
“I know that,” he shouted, throwing his arms out. “For fuck’s sake, Avery, of course I know that. In a million years you’d never, ever set another brewer’s place on fire—even one who screwed you over.”
His words startled a laugh out of me. “I noticed you didn’t say in a million years you’d never set a fire .”
West raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “I can think of a few scenarios in which you might be inspired to burn something to the ground. I haven’t forgotten that bonfire of your father’s things. But not like this. I know you didn’t do it.”
“West,” I took a step closer, reaching up to lay a hand on his crossed arms. “Jim found evidence. You didn’t let Ford?—”
“I’m not in love with Ford,” he burst out. “Okay? And I wasn’t leaving you sitting in that cell. No fucking way. Understand?”
“What?” I stared up at him, shocked to my core. I hadn’t thought about love, but the idea didn’t make me want to run. I didn’t know what to say about that part. Not yet. But I knew something else. “West,” I said, squeezing his arm, “I don’t want you to sacrifice who you are for me.”
“You want to go back to that cell?” he asked.
“I really don’t.” I couldn’t lie about that.
“Good, because I’m not taking you back. I need you to lie low. If we were really playing this smart, I’d leave you in there so whoever really set that fire thinks they’re in the clear. But that plan involves letting you sit in jail alone, and I’m not doing that. We’ll have to go with Plan B.”
“What’s Plan B?” I asked.
“Plan B is you lie low, and I do everything I can to find whoever set that fire as fast as possible before I have to send you back to jail.”
“What if we can’t find the person responsible?” I asked, my head spinning.
West loved me? He was putting his integrity on the line to keep me out of jail. He had to love me to do that.
“I’ll find them,” West said. “And just to be clear, I’m investigating this one, not you. Got it?”
I let out a breath, dropping my hand from his arm.
Stepping back, I shoved my hands in my pockets and forced myself to meet his eyes.
“Yeah, I get it. And I’m sorry about the thing the other day.
I shouldn’t have kicked you out of my brewery.
It was childish. I was just really fucking mad, and I didn’t want to say anything I’d regret, and then I did anyway. I’m sorry. I just?—”