2. Char
CHAR
“I hear my services were summoned.”
“You think she’s all right in there?”
“Nielson been to see her yet?”
“Why don’t you guys go home, get some rest…”
“She ate yet?”
“We should get her some water.”
“Hey! You! Get over here for a second!”
As I sat there on the bench, staring aimlessly at the beige-colored cinderblock-painted wall in front of me, my ass went numb.
Voices came and went, passing by like birds flying through the air.
Some people knocked on the door, waiting for me to respond.
Others spoke directly through it, like I gave a damn to listen.
My back hunched as my shoulders slumped.
Hair fell into my face, attaching itself to my forehead as anger heated my face.
Then there was nothing.
All was quiet on the police precinct front as my mind turned to thoughts of Marcie.
I knew damned good and well that she was talking with my lawyer before I got a chance to.
I knew she was already conniving and planning something behind my back, which meant that whatever lawyer she brought me, I couldn’t use.
Not if I wanted a leg up in the situation.
After all, she turned things against me at every turn.
So much so that she had me locked away in a holding cell awaiting charges, for fuck’s sake!
Or maybe I could use the scenario to my advantage.
I slowly looked over at the clock hanging on the wall and I wondered how accurate the time was. If it was anywhere near accurate, then nightfall was almost upon us. Great, I’d be on that unforgiving, cold ass, metal ass bench all goddamn night.
“No rest for the weary,” I whispered to myself.
“Daddy! No! Please!”
“It’s okay,” the female police officer cooed as she held me on the porch, “just let the kind officers do?—”
“Daddy, please!”
“Stay back, princess—ah!”
“You’re hurting him! No!”
I shrieked as I made a mad dash for the porch railing. I reached out for it, raking my fingernails against the white painted wood.
“It’s okay, I gotcha. I know, I know it’s upsetting,” the police officer said softly as she wrapped her arms around my waist.
“No, Daddy. Don’t take him away, please! Daddyyyyy!”
My memories ripped me back, and when I came to, I found myself rubbing my wrists. I looked down and saw the faint bruising already appearing against my skin, and it made me wonder if those cuffs were that tight on my father.
I ran my finger across the small indentation that still etched itself against the bone of my wrist as I thought about that day.
The day my father was arrested. The day Marcie had her arms around me, physically holding me back from taking off after my father.
I had been so young that, at the time, it hadn’t mattered what he had done.
What I had found out. All that mattered was that I didn’t lose both of my parents.
I mean, a nine-year-old needs someone, you know?
I got so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t realize someone had joined me until he spoke.
“Hey there, Char,” Sheriff Nielson said.
I kept my gaze locked with the wall as a tear snaked its way down my cheek. I didn’t have the energy to talk.
“How ya doin’ back here?” he asked as he hooked his thumbs into his belt loops.
My head tilted to the side as tears continued to fall effortlessly.
“The guys stopped by,” he said as he thumbed over his shoulder. “They send their regards.”
I hoped that if I simply stayed silent, he’d go away and leave me alone. I didn’t want to be around him. Hell, I didn’t want to be around anyone. All I wanted was to be back at the clubhouse, curled up in my bed, eating potato chips off my stomach while watching a movie. That’s what I wanted.
I settled for staring at the unforgiving wall as my tears soaked my neck.
“Well, you should know that the guys are back home safe. Took me some time to get them out of here, but I’m sure they’ll be back in the morning to see ya. Maybe we could put you in a room and they can come in and see you, one by one.”
When worry flowed across Nielson’s face, an idea struck up.
So, I dug my heels in. I continued to stare.
I continued to silently cry. I continued to listen like no one was home.
Maybe I could convince them that I lost my fucking mind.
That maybe all of this shit that I’d been through in life finally broke me.
After all, the courts couldn’t condemn a legally insane person.
Worth a shot.
“Char, can you look at me, at least?” Nielson practically begged.
I didn’t even flinch as a heavy sigh fell from his lips.
“Well, there isn’t much we can do around here until Marcie’s boss comes down and sets things in motion. Figured you’d wanna know that more feds are headed this way.”
I knew he was trying, but it wouldn’t work. I wasn’t in this for myself any longer. I didn’t give a shit what happened to me.
I was in this for the guys.
I had to get Marcie away from them before she sank them for good.
“Char, please say something,” Nielson said breathlessly.
Maybe an insanity plea would work in my favor.
After all, it wasn’t as if I was guilty of whatever the fuck this woman wanted to charge me with.
This was all Marcie’s fault, the murderous bitch.
She was simply trying to cover up her tracks.
And if we had to get our asses into a courtroom for all of this shit to come out, I could act crazy like the rest of them.
I wasn’t helpless, as much as I felt it.
I never was.
And I refused to accept that truth now.
“Maybe Carlyle will have more luck,” Sheriff Nielson murmured as he made his way out of the room.
I’ll give it to them, they tried their best. Carlyle came back with coffee and the female deputy from the front desk came in with food.
They tried talking about the guys. They tried gossiping about their friends and family.
Hell, Carlyle told me all about his engagement plans for his girlfriend, and it took all I had not to smile at him.
Not to give him advice. Not to tell him that he was gonna rock the socks off that fucking proposal.
But I forced myself to sit there. I forced myself to stay locked with the wall, completely dedicated to the makeshift plan that settled in my mind’s eye.
If a courtroom is what Marcie wanted, a courtroom is what she’d get.
“Well,” an unfamiliar voice said as the entryway door opened, “I suppose it’s time we met one another.”
A set of heels clicked in my general direction before a woman with big curly hair stepped in front of me.
I kept my gaze locked with her prominent bosom.
I refused to flinch as she brought her briefcase in front of her and clutched it in both of her pristine, perfectly tanned hands.
Even her nails were manicured to perfection.
I didn’t let it distract me, though.
It did, however, make me want a pedicure, something awful.
“Abigail Sinclair,” the woman said as she stuck her hand through the bars of my holding cell, “I’m the lawyer called up for your case.”
I was at a crossroads. A crucial moment in my plea. Did I move? Did I even acknowledge that she was standing there? Or did I let her in on the plan?
She’s talked to Marcie, be careful.
“Char,” I whispered.
I didn’t move to shake her hand, though. I just kept staring at her chest.
“Well at least you’re talking to someone now,” she said as she removed her hand and clutched her briefcase handle.
“Don’t hold your breath,” I murmured.
“Why?”
That’s when I decided to move my gaze up to hers, just to punctuate my point. And by the widening of her eyes, she played right into my hands.
“Because you’re not gonna like what I’ve got to say once we do start talking,” I said plainly.
Abigail tilted her head. “Try me.”
“Why?”
She took a step toward the bars. “Because I’m here to help you. That’s my job.”
“So, I take it you had a talk with the arresting officer when you came in?”
She nodded. “Special Agent Marcie Dickerson, yes. We spoke.”
My face sank into stone as I cracked my neck. “And whatever I need, you’ll do as I ask?”
“Within reason, of course. But mainly, yes. I’m here to do whatever it takes to help your case.”
I stepped up to the bars and placed my face against them, sticking my nose between the bars. “Then you can get me a list of all the lawyers in the state that were at the top of their class.”
She blinked. “Well, you’re in luck. I graduated in the top three percent of my class.”
I blinked before I mocked her overly calm tone of voice. “And I’ll hire someone who hasn’t talked to Special Agent Marcie Dickerson before coming to see me.”
“Why is that?”
I took a step away from the bars. “If you’re not smart enough to figure that out on your own after your talk with her, then we have nothing else to discuss.”
“Ma’am, no conversation that I have compromises anything we talk about.”
I couldn’t help it. As the bark of a laugh fell from my lips, I bent forward at the waist and placed my hands on my knees.
My God, this woman actually thought she was informed.
She actually thought she had a fucking clue what was going on.
I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up the back of my throat.
I waved my hand in the air as I eased my way back down onto the bench.
My hand gravitated to my heart. I caught my breath as I tilted my head up to the ceiling, trying to abate the hilarity of her statement.
Jesus Christ, that woman didn’t know shit.
“Now,” I said as I cleared my throat, “get me that list so I can hire someone myself, or get the fuck out.”
Abigail didn’t budge, though. “What if I could prove to you that I’m not compromised?”
My eyebrows ticked upward. “Then do as I ask and get me that list so I can lawyer up for myself. Otherwise, have a nice evening. Hopefully better than the one I’m having. Goodnight.”
As Abigail chewed on the inside of her cheek, I turned my back to her.
I was tired of her cocky attitude. I was over her curls that kept spilling into her face.
I wanted peace and quiet, because I knew it was only a matter of time before I didn’t have an ounce of peace to myself until we sank Marcie at her own game.
I stared at the cinderblock wall as my back slumped once more.
As my shoulders hunched over. My sadness overtook me, pulling more tears down my cheeks, and I listened halfheartedly as I heard the lawyer’s heels clicking down the hallway.
“I’ll be back promptly with that list,” Abigail said.
She left me in the mute stillness of the holding cell area.
At least it’s quiet back here.
Which was more than I could say for the rest of my fucking life.