53. Chapter 53
Cameron
I spend the night in a holding cell with a bruiser who tries to take me down the moment the door closes behind the deputy.
He fails. I don’t work out every day just to look good.
Within minutes, he’s squirming on the floor, holding his stomach.
A guard yells a warning at us and bangs on the bars, but doesn’t come inside.
After that, the bruiser stays on the other side of the cell.
I don’t dare close my eyes, just in case he tries something again.
Not that I could sleep anyway. There’s also a junkie in the cell with us. He doesn’t attack anyone, but he spends the night moaning and throwing up. He doesn’t always make it to the toilet in time.
No one comes to clean up the mess.
The lights don’t dim. They stay blindingly white the entire night, searing so deep into my retinas that I’ll probably see them for the rest of my life. Fucking Small.
He can’t do worse, though. Gone are the times when he could just turn off the cameras and rough me up.
No freezing showers or blaring alarms. Just a useless street fighter with the intelligence of a boiled potato, and a vomiting junkie.
It’s annoying, but I’ll live. I’ll live and I’ll take Small down for this.
Where the fuck is my lawyer?
No one mentioned him, and when I asked, I got vague answers that he hadn’t arrived yet. What the fuck? Did they even call him? They have to do that, right?
The door to the cell opens. “Matthews!” a deputy calls out.
Fucking finally.
They cuff me and walk me down some corridors. Different ones from yesterday, I think.
“No breakfast?” I joke. I’m hungry, but they’d probably spit in whatever slop they feed the prisoners here, so I’ll pass. I’ll order a huge breakfast spread from my favorite restaurant when I get out of here. “Your room service sucks. I’m leaving a one star review.”
They don’t react to my taunting, not even to tell me to shut up. Boring.
My bravado falters a little when we emerge in an underground garage.
“What the hell’s happening?” They’re not releasing me, that’s obvious, but they also didn’t bring me back into the interrogation room.
Instead, they push me into the back of an unmarked car, still cuffed, and wait outside. This isn’t good.
“Hey! What’s going on? You have to tell me, and you have to call my lawyer. I have freaking rights!”
A young deputy gets in the passenger seat. “Calm down, Mr. Matthews,” she says. “We’re just going to do a quick crime scene walkthrough and evidence recovery. The lead detective on your case requested it.”
What is Small up to now? “Crime scene walkthrough? What crime scene? You’ve already trampled all over my house, not that any crimes have been happening there.”
“The detective will share the details once he gets here.”
Great, so not even this grunt knows what’s going on. This isn’t good. “What about my lawyer? I have a right to speak to my lawyer.”
“I’m sure they’ve been called. Your lawyer’s presence isn’t required for a crime scene walkthrough. You’ll meet them once we return.”
If we return.
Small takes his sweet time getting here. The deputy doesn’t seem bothered, but my stomach rumbles. She ignores it. So much for serving and protecting.
The look Small gives me through the rearview mirror when he finally arrives chills me to the bone. He’s calm, way too calm compared to the way he threatened me last time.
Something is wrong with him. He’s always been a little on edge, but now it looks like someone gave him a good shove and he fell straight into madness. I was convinced he couldn’t physically hurt me, especially not with the young grunt riding along, but now I’m not so sure.
“I want to know what’s happening. I haven’t consented to any scene walkthroughs or whatever this is. I want to speak to my lawyer.”
“We don’t need your consent,” Small says icily. “We’re going to take you to the warehouse where we interrupted a trafficking operation. The one you tipped us off on.”
“I did no such thing!” A warehouse. Jesus fucking Christ. “Deputy, I demand to be taken back to the station. I don’t feel safe with Detective Small here.” Great. Now I’m begging the police for protection from themselves.
The deputy glances over her shoulder at me, her eyebrow raised so high it disappears into her unfortunate fringe.
“The site has been secured. There’s nothing to fear, sir.
We’ll put your disagreement into the protocol, but we won’t be taking you back to the station just yet. Cooperate, and it will be over faster.”
I grit my teeth. Yeah, it will all be over quickly. “You’re misunderstanding me, deputy. Detective Small here is the threat. I’m convinced he brought me here to hurt me. I demand protection.”
Her eye roll speaks volumes. Either she’s in on it with Small or she thinks I’m making things up, because there’s no way a detective would assault a suspect.
Yesterday, I would have agreed with her. Today…
I miss Justin. His smile flashes before my eyes. What if I never see him again? He must have lied to protect me. That’s the reason Small’s going off the rails. My sweet pet is protecting me.
“You’re quite safe, Mr. Matthews, don’t worry.” The deputy turns away, signaling that the conversation is over. Great.
The warehouse where Small busted Ventresca’s operation is as decrepit as one would imagine.
It’s cordoned off by police tape that’s torn in several places.
A few dark figures rush away when we roll by.
Probably junkies or homeless people looking for shelter.
The trash by the door stinks to high heaven.
The deputy pulls me out of the car as Small saunters into the warehouse. The police seals on the door are already broken. She frowns at them, maybe correctly guessing that we’re not going to retrieve any useful evidence here, but she soldiers on.
The inside of the warehouse is empty, save for the trash littering the floor and some rusty shelving units. The deputy parks me against the wall and looks expectantly at Small like a puppy waiting for orders.
“Check the perimeter,” he orders. To her credit, she hesitates.
“That’s an order, deputy,” Small presses on.
“No!” I protest immediately. “Don’t fucking leave me alone with him. He’s going to kill me!”
She tries to stay professional, but I can see her fighting an eye roll. “Mr. Matthews, you’re safe here,” she repeats. “Detective Small is a decorated police officer with two decades of experience. There’s no way he’d hurt you.”
“Yes,” Small chimes in smugly. “Stop being ridiculous, Matthews. The only one who's a danger to society here is you. Let’s get this over with.”
The deputy still looks torn. For a moment, it looks like she'll refuse the order. Then her radio crackles, and she steps out to answer it, leaving me alone with the clearly insane man.
Fuck.